


Shared My Body and My Mind With You (That's All Over Now)

by HoodiesandComputers



Series: Olicity AUs [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Male-Female Friendship, OFBB 2016, Olicity Big Bang 2016, Olicity Fic Bang 2016, Oliver has sex with other people/clients, Prostitute Oliver, Slow Burn, Smut, Smut is NOT Olicity, Some BDSM, Still Olicity af tho, You've been warned, i mean literally, i'm not lying when i say slow burn, neither is the drug use, not very graphic, prostitute/client, the attempted rape is a very small scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 72,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7913989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodiesandComputers/pseuds/HoodiesandComputers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months ago Felicity did the unthinkable and paid to have sex with the one and only Oliver. Despite being worlds apart they’ve become close friends, but what happens as feelings change, a rival comes into the picture, and a friendship suddenly starts to break? A continuation of a prostitute/client AU, which comes from my one-shot <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3149957">“Taste of Your Poison Paradise.”</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my story for the Olicity Fic Bang and it’s a continuation of my one-shot "Taste of Your Poison Paradise." You don't need to read the story, but in case you’re wondering it's a smutty prostitute/client AU I wrote a little over a year ago. I'll go back and fix a few things on it so it flows better with this fic, but again, you don't have to read it in order to understand the story.
> 
> This multichapter fic is partly inspired by the awesome series "The Secret Diary of a Call Girl," which I definitely recommend if you like Billie Piper and dramedy. The title comes from Lana Del Rey's sultry "Cruel World." 
> 
> Many, many thanks to Tammy (@curvy-tam) for being a wonderful beta and Mimi (@the-mimi-hiddleston) for cheering me on. And I have to give a special shout out to Sam (srmiller on Ao3) for making this story a thousand times better. You three are the best.

_The air smells of sex and sweat, filling up his nostrils with its delicious scent. He savors it, his lips licking in anticipation of what's going to happen next. She looks so fucking good from here – wet and ripe for his taking, lips swollen and chest rapidly rising and falling._

_He could get used to this view._

_His cock hardens at the sight of her, and he licks his lips in preparation –_

"Hello? Earth to Oliver?"

Oliver snaps his head up and looks at Felicity, clearing his throat as he feigns innocence. It was getting remarkably easy to pretend he wasn't constantly daydreaming about having sex with her. "Did I miss something?"

Rolling her eyes, Felicity shakes her head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. You zoned out the moment I was getting to the good part!"

He laughs as his chest fills with warmth. That was the thing about Felicity: she's magnetic and he loves getting pulled into her orbit.

He is so _fucked_.

It's been a little over a year since he and Felicity met for her "scheduled appointment" and their subsequent run-in at a Jitters. He's never had a friendship with any of his clients in the past, since it can be quite awkward for them, but with Felicity something had clicked to the point where he felt compelled to reveal his _real_ name, not his escort one. They've been friends ever since, and with her Oliver finds a little bit of stability amongst his hectic and unique life.

Having Felicity as a friend has turned his life around. Before, he would go back to his lonely apartment after his appointments and dwell on what could've been. Now, he looks forward to their regular meetings, to watching movies with her, and getting to know her bit by bit. Of course, having had sex with each other initially made things complicated, but after deciding to push past how they met, they quickly moved onto becoming friends.

Well, Felicity views him as a friend, but Oliver . . . Oliver doesn't know how he views her. And it's beginning to be a problem.

Oliver understands his profession isn't one you typically advertise to the world. Being a high-class prostitute means he spends most of his days trying to funnel illegal money in legitimate ways, and screwing women for ridiculous amounts of money. Having a romantic relationship with anyone is out of the question. Who in their right mind would be okay with their significant other being a glorified whore?

But with Felicity, he fantasizes about a life so unlike his own it's starting to overtake his every waking moment. She's incredibly patient, understanding, kind, and above all refuses to judge Oliver for his profession. She makes his days considerably brighter and her optimism is infectious.

Sometimes he wonders what his life would've been like had he meet her when he'd needed someone as strong as Felicity, but at this point there's no reason to dwell on the past, to look back and wonder what-if. Oliver's lucky to have Felicity in his life, regardless if it happened much later than he would've liked. The fact that she's _still_ here never ceases to amaze him, and he savors every moment he has with her.

Not wanting Felicity to catch he's zoned out _again_ , Oliver smoothly changes the subject. "Hey, are we still on for Wednesday night?"

Frowning, Felicity looks at her coffee mug and pouts. "No." It takes every bit of strength not to laugh, because seeing Kord Industries' premier IT consultant pouting is a sight to behold. (It doesn't help she's wearing a bright pink lipstick, and if possible it makes her luscious lips look even bigger. Not that he's paying attention or anything.)

"Why, is it work?" Oliver takes a sip from his own cup and patiently waits for her reply. He's certainly disappointed, but this isn't the first time Felicity's had to cancel their Wednesday movie night plans. Felicity's job can become hectic at a moment's notice, whereas Oliver has the luxury of scheduling his appointments whenever he wants.

"Unfortunately, yes. There's this huge project we're working on, and we hit a couple of roadblocks. I keep having meetings with the engineers and researchers, but it's still not shaping up as fast as I would like." She sighs and toys with her napkin. "I'm sorry."

Oliver shakes his head as he tries to make Felicity feel better about the situation. "Don't be. You can always make it up to me. You're a busy person with an important job – it happens."

Visibly relaxing at his comment, Felicity says, "Yeah, my job's just a little harder than yours."

Tilting his head to the side, Oliver raises an eyebrow and takes another sip from his cup, waiting for Felicity to realize she's made a suggestive comment. She never fails to accidentally drop an innuendo here and there, which provides a much-needed opportunity for Oliver to make fun of Felicity.

Her eyes widen in horror once she fully recognizes what she said. "Oh my God, why can't I keep my mouth shut?" Burying her face in her hands, she grumbles, "And now you'll use that against me . . . like every other time."

"Hmm. Fortunately for you, I'm feeling charitable today since work seems to be getting _harder_ by the second."

"I hate you."

_And I lo – like you_.

Grinning, Oliver checks his watch and sees his break time is almost over. Even though Oliver clearly doesn't need to work at the coffee shop, he's found it makes him feel slightly better working a normal job. Also, it provides a much-needed cover to funnel his money, but considering the pace he's working at it'll take him several years to completely flush his money through.

Ah, the woes of being a high-class prostitute.

"Hey, my shift's about to start." Standing up, he collects his cup and Felicity's plate of half-eaten chocolate cake. "You can leave a tip on the table," he adds with a wink.

Felicity narrows her eyes at his comment as he certainly doesn't need any tips, but her eyes suddenly light up in amusement. Leaning against the chair, Felicity eyes Oliver up and down and says, "Well, now I know why you're asking for them in the first place."

"Oh?" His curiosity peaked, he crosses his arms and waits for Felicity to tell him whatever joke she saw on the Internet.

"Because no one's willing to let you stick the whole thing in." Believing she's _finally_ caught him, Felicity mimics a gun and pretends to shoot him. Oliver plays along and clutches his stomach, but clicks his tongue as he steps forward.

"Touché, Smoak." Towering over her, Oliver smirks as he watches Felicity's haughty expression dissipate once she realizes he's going in for the kill. "But seeing that I get paid five grand on average to use just my _fingers_ . . ."

"Ugh, fine!" Glancing around the shop, Felicity grits her teeth, her eyes flaming in annoyance. "You can't let me have this one joke, can you?"

Now he feels bad, but seeing Felicity get all kinds of flustered is adorable to him. "Nope." He laughs good-heartedly, which causes Felicity to smile marginally, but he knows she'll get over it. Collecting the trash from the table and putting it on the plate, he winks on more time and says, "See you around, Smoak."

She waves him off dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. I'll be praying for your demise in the meantime."

Laughing once more, Oliver walks away with a bounce in his step, grinning as he goes behind the counter and disposes of the trash. He quickly turns around and sees Felicity deep in thought on her phone, and he can't restrain himself from smiling again. She's a sight to behold – the light blue dress accentuates her petite frame, and her golden hair creates a lovely halo around her. She's beautiful.

"Stop daydreaming and get to work," his boss scolds. Clearing his throat, Oliver wraps his apron around his waist and tries not to think about Felicity again. Although, it's getting pretty hard not to.

* * *

Felicity's Sunday afternoons are especially reserved for her and Oliver at Jitters, because the rest of the week often gets too busy for the both of them. As Wednesdays drag, Thursdays bump along, and quiet Saturdays get interrupted she has Sudays shining like a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel.

While Felicity walks home after Jitters, she can't help but look back on unbelievable it is she and Oliver have become friends in the past six months. She never would've imagined becoming friends with someone she once paid to have sex with, yet here she is, spending every Sunday afternoon and Wednesday evening with Oliver. And of course, texting him everyday just because she can.

Their first meeting outside of the hotel where they had initially first met was unexpected and unbearably awkward. When she ran out of the coffee shop after seeing the male prostitute she'd hired taking orders at the register Felicity vowed to never come back . . . a vow which lasted only until she desperately needed her coffee fix and there wasn't a shop nearby. Eventually she was able to she gather enough courage to venture inside and even managed to order her drink without a hiccup as Oliver, bless him, pretended he didn't know her.

Still, it was difficult to ignore their history. When Oliver asked to speak with her privately Felicity agreed, although she was nervous and unsure of what would transpire. To her surprise, he explained why he worked at Jitters, and if seeing him made her uncomfortable, he would gladly change his shifts and not take her order if they happened to be in the cafe at the same time. Naturally, his thoughtfulness when it came to her feelings convinced Felicity to relax, and before she knew it they had become fast friends over orders of lattes and danishes.

Thank God for a five thousand dollar one-night stand, right?

Although she and Oliver are one hundred percent absolutely _platonic_ friends, Felicity would be lying if she hadn't thought about Oliver and the single night they'd spent together. After knowing what he can do in between the sheets . . . Her imagination ran wild for a _very_ long time. But in no way would she consider a relationship with him given he's a prostitute.

She's certainly not prejudiced against prostitution, and she doesn't judge Oliver for what he does. It's just Felicity's not comfortable with the idea of Oliver sleeping with others then coming home to sleep with her. It sounds rather possessive, and Felicity's the first to admit she's not a fan of sharing, especially when it comes to her significant other. And more importantly, Oliver's illegal job would be weighing on their entire relationship. Felicity intends to advance her career, and she has no doubt people will begin to snoop into her personal life. Whether or not Oliver continues to be a prostitute remains to be seen, but his history will always catch up to him. Felicity can't possibly be entrenched in a scandal as she's trying to become someone famous in the tech world.

But she's getting ahead of herself – she doesn't even know if Oliver likes her. And most of all, Felicity is friends with Oliver because she enjoys his company, not because she enjoys staring at him, though it's certainly a plus.

They've gotten close over the course of the past few months, but like any person with a sordid past and dark secrets Felicity keeps them to herself just as Oliver keeps his close. At the present she doesn't mind it – if Oliver ever feels comfortable enough with her to tell the her the whole story of how he got to where he is then she'll be there for him. Until then, she knows it's best if they both stay quiet for now.

Yet, despite becoming relatively close to Oliver, Felicity hasn't told anyone she's his friend.

It wasn't because she was worried she'd accidentally reveal his secret identity out to the world, she can easily lie to her other friends and say Oliver is someone she met at Jitters, but she's not sure if she's ready to introduce him to the rest of her life.

Their first meeting was rather _unique_ , and Oliver's seen a side of Felicity very few people have. She doesn't know how their odd friendship would fare in the face of the real world. Whenever they meet at Jitters they're wrapped in a tiny bubble no one else has access to and it's just them, talking and getting to know each other fifteen minutes at a time. Beyond that . . . Felicity doesn't know what their relationship entails.

Despite all of this, Felicity has no expectations for their friendship. If Oliver decides one day he doesn't want to be friends anymore, she'll respect his decision. And if Felicity's other life – the life which includes being Kord Industries' top IT consultant – can't mesh with Oliver's profession, then she'll undoubtedly pick her career.

Felicity stops walking at the idea of her life without Oliver, without movies and Sunday afternoons and quick cups of coffee in between meetings and clients, and there's suddenly a theoretical emptiness in her heart which feels all too real.

_Well_ . . . Perhaps walking away from Oliver is easier said than done.

* * *

Every Monday at exactly 10:30 in the morning Oliver goes to Verdant, a nightclub situated on Chicago's North side. There, Isabel Rochev, owner of Emerald Associates – Oliver's place of employment – meets with her employees to go over appointments and, naturally, to cut her forty percent from their pay. Which, of course, pisses Oliver off to the utmost degree.

Isabel is a mysterious character – she's undoubtedly of Russian origin, but beyond that no one knows anything about her. She's vicious and her icy stare can reduce anyone into a crying mess. Oliver's no stranger to feeling intimidated by Isabel's presence but in the past three years he's been working for Isabel, he knows all the tricks to keep her from getting under his skin.

When Oliver stumbled into the world of high-class prostitution, Isabel was warm and welcoming, making sure Oliver was ready to take on this kind of role. Once he signed on and became her employee, she took the gloves off and didn't waste time in showing her true nature. All the other employees were afraid of Isabel, but Oliver soon learned in order to gain Isabel's respect, you had to have a certain advantage over her. And for Oliver, his advantage was his premiere status as Emerald's Number One Escort.

He's not particularly proud of having the honor, but with it comes certain perks no other escort has, one of which is being able to tell Isabel to back off. Still Oliver has to tread lightly – getting on Isabel's bad side would surely spell his demise if he pushes her too far. There's no doubt in Oliver's mind she has a file on every single one of her associates, and despite using a fake name, Isabel probably knows who Oliver _really_ is. And he can't afford for anyone to know that.

As Oliver steps inside Verdant, he's suddenly reminded of all the nights he spent inside clubs like these, dropping thousands of dollars on expensive champagne just because he could. He misses it – not the partying, but the carefree attitude he'd had. It was easier back then, but if he had known what his future would entail, he would've done a better job of preparing himself for the worst. Of course, had he known he was going to get into prostitution, he _definitely_ would've taken the necessary steps to prevent that from happening.

He doesn't necessarily hate being a prostitute. Compared to most other people – even his own coworkers – Oliver has it easy. He works with high-end clients, which means he's not getting thrown to the wolves. Yet every time he's about to knock on the door of a hotel room, he wants to turn around and run back home, throw all of this away.

Oliver's _real_ name is Oliver Jonas Queen, son of Robert Queen, the former CEO of Queen Consolidated. He'd grown up in Star City and had once lived an extravagant life, filled with an overstuffed trust fund and too many women to count. His world collapsed when his father had a heart attack at sea and died before getting proper aid. Robert had been everything to him, and to not be there when his father died crushed Oliver.

Naturally, he got involved in alcohol, partying and girls, which led to him dropping out of no less than four colleges. In the meantime his mother – Moira Queen – ran QC as CEO. But as CEO, she invested heavily in mortgages which led to the housing collapse in 2007-08. With it, Moira and the Queen family fell to disgrace, QC had to be bailed out and filed for bankruptcy, and the Queen family was smeared all over the papers.

Being a female CEO, Moira was undoubtedly an easy scapegoat despite the fact several other CEOs had been investing in the exact same mortgages. Moira's mistake led to many legal fees, which spiraled into their home being repossessed and their life savings being drained to nothing.

It had been a tough pill to swallow, especially for Oliver and his younger sister, Thea. Much like Moira, they'd grown up in an entirely privileged life, and having to land at the bottom was an unknown experience for them. To make matters worse, eighteen months after the scandal Moira was abruptly taken from her children's lives in a freak accident which had left Oliver with severe injuries. After paying off her debts, funeral expenses, as well as his medical expenses, Oliver realized he was well and truly broke.

With no college degree and zero (actual) work experience, the only thing Oliver had left was his name. And it wasn't enough. Oliver had floated through life because his name was his prized possession, but in the end it failed him. He couldn't rely on the Queen family because there was no Queen family or Queen Consolidated. It vanished into thin air, and Oliver did everything he could to grab onto the remnants of it.

Eventually Oliver accepted being Oliver Queen was no longer an asset, and he would have to actually work in order to survive in the hard world he's suddenly found himself in. Oliver then started using Jonas as his last name, moved to Chicago and stayed away from the public eye as he searched for jobs.

That is, until he stumbled upon prostitution and realized the pay was more than he could _ever_ imagine in his current situation. And that was it.

In many ways it was a blessing and a curse. Oliver has plenty of money now and he doesn't have to go back to school, but what he's doing is illegal and could get him in a lot of trouble. If the media got a wind of this – if his _sister_ found out – he would be wrecked. Prostitution is a temporary solution. He'll find a way to get out of it . . . if he bothers to.

Shaking those thoughts away he moves towards the back where Isabel typically sets shop,she follows a strict schedule and she's never a minute behind. Currently, she's speaking with a female escort, Helena, an equally icy and jaded woman who takes no prisoners. Oliver had spent a few nights with Helena, but it went nothing beyond a typical hookup. She was also a top earner but was incredibly selective in her clients. Isabel occasionally let her snide attitude slide, but Oliver could it tell it irritated Isabel Helena demanded so much from her potential clients.

Patiently waiting his turn, Oliver watches Helena stand up and leave Isabel's makeshift office, swiftly gathering her purse and not bothering to spare Isabel another glance. _Someone's upset_. As Helena comes closer to him, he smiles in acknowledgment, but she blankly stares at Oliver as she zooms past him. Oh well – it takes a lot for Oliver to get offended, and if Helena was having a bad day then she was allowed to be snippy.

Shrugging Helena's behavior off, he sits down in front of Isabel and promptly takes out wads of cash from his briefcase. While Isabel busies herself with the books, Oliver double checks to see if he brought every payment with him. The past week was a little slow, as several of his regular clients were out of town. Thankfully, he's in a position where he can take several months off, but the world of high-class escorts is fickle. One wrong review and his whole profession can go down the drain.

Once Isabel does her finishing touches, she finally looks up at Oliver. "Thomas. How have you been?"

It still bothers him that of all names he could have chosen he'd picked his (former) best friend's name, but when he'd been asked to give his name he'd panicked, and unable to say _Oliver_ had fumbled out _Thomas_ instead. Stuck with it now, he rationalized if it kept his identity in the dark he'd suck it up. "Fine, how are you?"

Isabel manages to produce an artificial smile on her lips, which quickly disintegrates as it undoubtedly hurts her soul to do so. "Perfect. I trust you have all the money?"

She stares at him as Oliver pushes the cash towards her. Her greed irritates Oliver to no end, but without it he wouldn't be getting paid nearly $200,000 a year. "It's all been accounted for."

"Let's not get hasty, Thomas. I'll count again just to be sure." Her thin hands quickly grab onto the cash, and she counts every single bill while she looks at the books beside her. Once Isabel's satisfied, she begins to divide the cash, taking 40 percent away from the entire amount.

Clearing her throat, Isabel glances up at Oliver through her long lashes, her eyes boring into his. "Last week was a bit slow, hmm?"

"A lot of my regulars were out of town."

Eyeing Oliver carefully, she clicks her tongue and leans back against the couch. "And before you know it, suddenly everyone is out of town. We don't _ever_ want that to be a common situation, right?"

If Isabel honestly thinks Oliver's lost his edge, then she has another thing coming. "I can promise you no one's lost interest in me. I make sure it doesn't happen."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." _Yeah, because you won't be able to cut 40 percent off my paycheck every week._ "But anyway, I need a favor from you."

Favors from Isabel were usually more along the lines of demands rather than requests and there was often no other choice. Internally groaning at the new development, Oliver schools his features and tries to hide his frustration. "Anything for you."

She smiles again, although it creeps Oliver the _hell_ out.

"There's a new male escort who could benefit learning a thing or two from Emerald's most valued escort." Reaching over for her bag, Isabel produces a file and hands it over to Oliver. He opens it up and sees a picture of a handsome guy, but he looks exceptionally young and it sets Oliver on edge. Oliver became an escort at twenty-five, and although he wasn't exactly the most mature person out there, he had seen some shit and learned from it. This new escort – Roy Harper – should dip his toes in something more respectable. But he knows it's not in his place to say anything, and if Roy wants to be an escort then Oliver won't fight him on it.

"I've arranged a meeting between you and Mr. Harper Tuesday. I trust he'll be in good hands?"

Seeing he has no other choice even though he despises training, Oliver grits his teeth and plasters a fake smile on his lips. "Absolutely."

Isabel grins devilishly and it takes every bit of energy to prevent himself from wiping that smirk off her satanic face. Fuck, he _really_ hated Isabel.

* * *

Chicago is a lovely city but its moody weather is a pain. Despite living in the city for the past three years, Felicity's bones still haven't gotten used to the cold. Growing up around Las Vegas never prepared her for this kind of weather, and although she _never_ leaves her apartment without a sweater, today ended up being the day the temperature dropped fifteen degrees and brought an onslaught of cold winds.

_Windy City indeed._

Kord Industries is located in the Loop - Lake Michigan is not too far out and the Chicago River is only a couple of blocks away, which adds to the cold factor. Felicity's office is situated on the 51st floor, which gives her a gorgeous view, but makes it susceptible for her office to shake when the wind picks up.

It gets a little difficult for Felicity to concentrate when she could very well fly out the window – granted, buildings are made to withstand strong winds but _still_. She's never been too fond of heights, and she finds any excuse to get out of her office when the shaking windows freak her out.

Take today, for example – Felicity jumped at the opportunity to help out her coworker, Caitlin Snow, even though Felicity has plenty of other projects to work on. They've spent the last fifteen minutes catching up and discussing their weekend instead of working, but Caitlin is a close friend and taking a small break wouldn't hurt anyone.

By the time Felicity joined Kord Industries, Caitlin had already been working there for two years. Caitlin's official title is researcher, but most of her time is spent in the consulting offices rather than the lab. In the past couple of years, Caitlin has become the middleman between R&D and Felicity's office, although she finds any excuse to head back to the lab when it's necessary.

Aside from the secretaries, all other consultants and bosses are male. There's an underlying amount of prejudice against Felicity – as a valedictorian with top honors from MIT, her skills are always the talk of the town. It used to embarrass her, but nowadays she's come to accept that _yes_ , she's a genius and there's nothing wrong with it. Her mother always scolded her for being humble about her talents, which embarrassed Felicity even more, but she's come to appreciate her mother's pestering. She should never be ashamed of who she is, even if her coworkers would love to see her stumble all the way back down.

Naturally, Felicity won't allow that to happen.

And so, having Caitlin around as a friend and trusted coworker helps a lot, especially since her male coworkers always find ways to make her busy in the event they see her not "working." Little do they know, Felicity's mandatory visits to Caitlin's office entail of everything _not_ work related, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Currently, Felicity's perched on her friend's desk and munching on Caitlin's leftover fries from lunch, even though they've gotten a little cold and soggy. "These are disgusting."

Caitlin rolls her eyes and smiles knowingly. "Then don't eat them."

"I can't help it. Whenever you bring them they're so warm and fresh, and then my Spidey senses get all tingly. So by principle I have to eat them."

"Fine, eat all the fries you want. Just don't complain about having to work out two days from now," Caitlin says with a hint of amusement.

Grumbling, Felicity stuffs the remaining cold fries in her mouth as she tries not to think about how many hours she'll have to work out in order to burn all the fat she's just eaten. "Could you make a special formula that burns body fat? I'll happily be your guinea pig."

Shocked at Felicity's suggestion, Caitlin's eyes widen in horror and her mouth hangs open. "I hope you realize how dangerous that is. The probabilities of it going –"

Caitlin's abruptly cut off when her door flies open, causing them to freeze as they realize they've been busted by none other than Hartley Rathaway.

_Of all the people who could've dropped in . . ._

Hartley was one of those privileged douchebags who believed the world, and by extension his co-workers, owed him everything. He walked the halls of Kord Industries with his nose in the air, and looked down on anyone who didn't meet his standards. Which was practically everyone.

Like Caitlin, Hartley was a researcher who spent half of his time with the consultants. Although he and Caitlin hold the same title, he does everything he can to one-up Caitlin, including demeaning her whenever he gets the chance. Caitlin – bless her – is too mild mannered to put Hartley in his place, but Felicity can't stand to watch her friend get treated like that. Unfortunately, sticking up for Caitlin lands Felicity on Hartley's shit list, which means he will do whatever it takes to bring them down.

But Felicity _loves_ a challenge.

"Well, well, well. What else would you expect – the Wonder Twins are gossiping instead of doing what they're supposed to be doing. Why am I not surprised?" Hartley eyes the two of them, his haughty expression refusing to dissipate.

He's  _so_ annoying.

"We were just getting started," Caitlin says, hoping to dispel Hartley from asking further questions. The longer he stays the more suspicious he'll get, and having Hartley hold something over their heads isn't what Felicity had in mind for the rest of the work week.

Clearly not buying Caitlin's explanation, Hartley clicks his tongue and smirks. "Should've known you two weren't useful for anything." Not allowing them to even register his insult, he taps on the doorframe before leaving and sings, "Clock's ticking ladies. Chop-chop!"

Felicity is too burned out to think about how annoying Hartley's interruption was, but Caitlin is getting riled up. "I want a slow and painful death for him."

She sighs. "Ditto."

Mondays are _always_ the worst.

* * *

"I'm in the middle of an interrogation. This moron is giving me everything."

Oliver – no, _Viktor_ – looks around the room in confusion. "I d-don't give everything."

Jennifer – right now she's Natasha Romanoff – glances up at him and rolls her eyes. "Look, you can't pull me out of this right now."

"All right, that is it. You have had your fun." Oliver – shit, Viktor – snatches the phone from Natasha and shuts it off. "I am not finished with you, _shlyukha_."

(He's rather enjoying playing a Russian captor. It's been awhile since he's practiced his Russian, and it appears his client – Jennifer – is enjoying it as well. It's not an everyday occurrence when your escort is well versed in Russian.)

Jennifer – Goddamn it, _Natasha_ , he can't keep forgetting their respective roles – narrows her hazel eyes and smirks. "We'll see about that."

Viktor straightens his back and hungrily eyes Natasha up and down. (At least that's what the script directions said.) "You are very beautiful."

"I'm well aware. Do you have any information you want to tell me or no?"

Viktor laughs an evil Russian laugh, and smiles at Natasha's bravado. "You . . . think you have the upper hand? _Vy nichego ne znayete,_ Black Widow."

Smirking, Natasha boldly responds, "I know that you're hiding four large containers of military grade weaponry near Kekra. And I have people taking it right at this moment."

"Are you sure?" Circling around Natasha, Viktor admires her toned physique and raises a hand to brush his fingertips on her shoulder blades. Her skin is smooth, soft like silk. Natasha stiffens and her breathing increases upon contact. Leaning down to her ear, Viktor hotly whispers, "It appears your information is outdated – again."

Natasha swallows thickly and refuses to look at him in the eye. "You do know your days are numbered. Chekov is moving on you faster than you think."

Viktor continues to circle around her, and eventually stands in front of her, towering over Natasha and letting her know who's the more dominant one. "Another thing I am aware of. But I am also aware that you like to be rather . . . naughty on occasion. "

"Depends on the situation."

"Mm." Looking down at her, Viktor steps closer until he's standing right between her legs, her ankles neatly wrapped around the chair legs in order to prevent her from escaping. Natasha glances up at him, her eyes brimming with intensity. Not deterred, Viktor presses his knees against hers and easily pushes her legs further apart. "Would this be one such situation?"

Her breathing has picked up and a slight flush is beginning to form on her ebony skin. Viktor takes note of this and smirks – he _finally_ has her. "No," she says defiantly.

"All in due time." Viktor gently places his fingertips under her chin, and slightly raises her head so she's at eye level. Well, well – it appears Natasha is not as good of a liar as she pretends to be. Her pupils are dilated and her luscious lips are rosy, ripe for the taking. He gets a sudden impulse to run his thumb on her lower lip and immediately does so, softly smoothing over ebony skin and wondering what they would look like with red lipstick. Natasha keeps very still, but her small breaths warm his finger.

Then the sneaky little minx runs her tongue on his thumb, and swiftly envelops his digit inside his mouth. _Fuck_. Oliver knows he's roleplaying right now, but damn that feels good. He's definitely looking forward to eating her out in a few minutes.

But suddenly, the sweet sensation is replaced by stinging pain, and Oliver can't help but flinch. His persona momentarily broken, Jennifer's eyes widen in horror. "Oh my God, I didn't mean to –"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Oliver whispers back. He winks at her to ease her worry and clears his throat, ready to get back in the game. He's had clients who thought sucking his dick entailed chopping it off with their teeth, so having her bite his thumb is tame compared to what he's had to deal with.

She nods, straightening her back and getting back into Natasha's headspace. "Did you like that?" she purrs.

Oliver would immediately answer with a hurried "Oh yes" but Viktor is practiced in the art of seduction. "But not nearly as much as you did."

Raising an eyebrow, Natasha confidentially relaxes in her chair despite being bound. (They've gone off script now, but as long as his client is fine with the changes Oliver supposes he can use a bit of artistic integrity.) " _Please_. As if you know what I enjoy."

"But I do, don't I?" Viktor tilts his head and examines the dangerous beauty in front of him. "I can see your eyes have gone dark with desire. Your chest rises rapidly in anticipation, and your breathing picks up whenever I'm near." She keeps still but watches him intently, and Viktor takes this as an opportunity to drop down on his knees.

Her eyes widen at his abrupt movements, but Viktor keeps his eyes trained on her, smirking as he sees how she's been thrown off. Scooting closer, Viktor examines the view in front of him – Natasha's a sight to behold with her legs spread far apart, giving him a perfect view of her swollen and wet sex.

And it's just his luck that she's wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

" _Blyad_ ," he mutters under this breath. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

"You know I always come prepared for my assignments, Viktor."

(Even though Jennifer is in her early forties, she's got an incredible body, she's confident, and stunningly beautiful. He's going to enjoy taking her for a ride.)

He grins wickedly and keeps his eyes on her as he places his hot hands on her knees. She swallows thickly in anticipation, but Viktor decides to drag it out and instead gently places his palms on her thighs. He begins to softly knead the flesh there, her smooth skin running underneath his fingers like fine silk.

Knowing she's enjoying this, Viktor continues to tease her by simply running his hands over her thighs, getting close to where she wants him the most, but quickly placing his hands elsewhere. Natasha's breathing has gotten shallower, but there's nothing she can do about this – Viktor made sure she's not going anywhere.

Thinking it's about time to stop teasing her, Viktor begins to bunch up her skimpy black dress around her hips. His hands smooth over her toned bum, and his heart skips a beat when she sees Natasha slightly lifting herself so he can remove the offensive clothing out of his way. _Good girl_.

"You're so ready for me, aren't you?" His mouth waters at the sight in front of him, because _damn_ , she is absolutely soaking and does nothing to hide it. (Oliver's beginning to regret taking Viagra, because his dick is annoyingly hard and it's getting a little bothersome.)

"No," Natasha breathes out.

Viktor's typically not a fan of liars, but in this case he'll make an exception for the enigmatic Black Widow. He's already caught in her web, a willing participant in her devious game. But as always, he does _love_ a challenge.

Grinning devilishly, Viktor bends down and begins to kiss and nip on Natasha's inner thighs. She's got incredible restraint – she's yet to betray how much this is affecting her, but Viktor intends on breaking her.

And he'll savor every moment.

* * *

Loosening his tie, Oliver takes a deep breath and inhales the cold Chicago air. It soothes his sweaty and warm skin, and does its best to cleanse him of the naughty things he did a mere fifteen minutes ago. Over to the side, he spots Jennifer exiting the hotel lobby and heading straight for a black Range Rover. Her long legs disappear inside the car, and for a moment he remembers how they were wrapped around his shoulders. Oliver grins at the memory, because he knows she was thoroughly sated, and he gets to take _all_ the credit.

Still, he pays her no mind – as an unspoken rule no escort is supposed to interact with a client unless they have been asked to do so. Besides, it seems Jennifer might be coming back for more, which means he'll have plenty of time to catch up with her then.

Fishing his phone from his pocket, Oliver opens up his messaging app and texts Felicity. Seeing how busy Felicity usually is, he doesn't like to bother her during the day, but he wants to make sure she's not overworking herself.

**How's ur day been?**

It takes a minute for Felicity to reply, during which Oliver starts to walk towards the bus stop. His phone buzzes with Felicity's reply, and he quickly opens his phone to read the message.

_OK. Had to deal with annoying Hartley for a bit but what else is new. Wbu?_

Grimacing, Oliver vows if he ever sees Hartley he'll throw him into the Chicago River for bothering Felicity as much as he does. Every single day, without fail, Hartley would annoy Felicity to the point where she would have to call him during work to vent. Oliver hates him as much as Felicity does. No one messes with his . . . _friends_ like that.

**fuck Hartley. I can always tell him to back off**

_I'd rather not have to pick u up from jail just because u want to teach an insufferable jerk a lesson. He's not worth your time. But anyway how was work_

He chooses not to press her on Hartley gossip and writes **Had a client who wanted to rp as Natasha Romanoff ;)**

The bus approaches his stop, so Oliver shoves his phone back inside his pocket and takes out his bus pass. As Oliver steps inside and swipes the card, he feels his phone buzz three times in quick succession. He sits down and takes out his phone, seeing Felicity sent three messages in a row.

_That sounds like fun_

_I mean it sounds like fun to pretend to be Natasha Romanoff._

_I'm so screwed aren't I?_

Oliver can't help but laugh – this was _so_ Felicity. Sensing an opportunity to tease her, he quickly types a message and hits "Send."

**Wait u want me to screw u?**

She responds immediately, and Oliver can only imagine the horrified look on her face.

_Omg do NOT put words in my mouth_

Grinning, Oliver begins to type his reply when he notices a pretty woman staring at him. He narrows his eyes and slightly tips his head toward her, which causes the woman to blush and look away. Sometimes it was embarrassingly easy to play the part of a charming devil.

**Take all the fun away won't u. Fine. I promise not 2 do that again.**

_Do you solemnly swear?_

**Uh yeah isn't that what i said**

The bus is getting a fuller now, as people are trying to escape the cold wind and head to safety. He briefly glances outside and admires the tall buildings until his phone buzzes again. An older lady sitting near him eyes him with annoyance, but he pays her no mind.

_Nv. You clearly haven't brushed up on your hp history._

Frowning, Oliver tries to think if he remembers what HP is, but fails and decides to suffer Felicity's judgment.

**What is hp history**

_You're a lost cause Oliver. gotta go back to work. Talk to you later?_

Sad that he and Felicity can't talk any longer, he sighs quietly and types another response.

**Sure. Knock em dead.**

_Thanks :)_

He smiles and resumes staring out the rain-splattered windows. Contrary to popular belief, it seems like Mondays are _occasionally_ bearable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! They really mean a lot. I'm sorry I posted this a little late, I was pretty busy and unable to do so in the past couple of weeks. 
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely @curvy-tam for being a phenomenal beta, @the-mimi-hiddleston for being the best cheerleader, and srmiller (on Ao3) for making this story a thousand times better. 
> 
> I hope you like the new chapter!

Glancing at his phone for the fifth time, Oliver grimaces and tries not to throw a temper tantrum in the middle of a café. He's supposed to meet Roy Harper right now, but either he's dead or too stupid to understand how public transportation works, because being nearly thirty minutes late is unacceptable. He's going to give him an extra five minutes before he leaves – he has no time for this. Provided he has no cancellations, Oliver's booked till ten tonight, and he was beginning to regret carving out time to speak with Roy.

His patience wearing thin, Oliver almost leaves before the five minute mark but spots Roy entering the café. Relieved but simultaneously annoyed, Oliver doesn't bother beckoning Roy over. The petty part of him wants to see Roy sweat for a minute longer.

He pretends to be busy on his phone when Roy comes up to him, nervous and sweating from running on the streets of Chicago. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be late. I got pretty lost and my bus was delayed." He's breathing heavily and unzips his red hoodie, and loudly sits down on the chair opposite of Oliver. "Name's Roy, by the way."

Sticking out his hand, Oliver reluctantly shakes his sweaty palm and scrutinizes Roy. He looks extremely young which might be a turn-off for some clients. Oliver's found women love having seemingly older escorts, and Roy's boyish charm would do him more harm than good. He's got a nice build, though, and has a handsome jawline. His voice is deep and sounds mature enough for female clients, but his style could take some work. Physically Roy seems to be in a decent shape, but between the sheets he could be absolutely horrible. But that's a whole other meeting they need to have.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver leans against his chair and narrows his eyes at his new apprentice. "First things first: you need a haircut, and nothing from Great Clips or wherever you normally get it." Roy self-consciously runs his hand through his hair and his eyes fall to the ground. His jaw, though, tenses at Oliver's critique, which means Roy's good at keeping his mouth shut when he's upset.

"I know a place I can take you to," Oliver unexpectedly hears himself say. He almost retracts what he said, but thinks he was _too_ harsh on Roy and should make him feel welcomed. Oliver doubts Roy came into this profession because he truly wanted to, and Oliver's making him feel worse than he already is.

"Just . . . this isn't as easy as you think it is." Roy's eyes snap up to his, wide with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. "Screwing someone is one thing, but when you're an escort, it's more than that. You're providing a fantasy. And all fantasies have to be absolutely perfect."

"Then why not just fuck a robot," Roy mutters under his breath. He smirks a little at his own comment, but upon seeing Oliver's less than amused face, his lip turn downward and he swallows thickly.

Oliver takes a deep breath. _Damn it_. He's got his work cut out for him. "Listen, if this is a joke to you, then you can leave. I don't have time for this." He stands up and beings to gather his coffee, not intending to stay here for another minute.

"Dude, relax." Roy's alarmed by Oliver's abrupt actions. "I was just –"

"Joking?" His fingers twitch as he restrains himself from lashing out on Roy. How dare he waste Oliver's time and expect him to be all right with his attitude? Oliver has a long list of clients to attend to, and sitting here with Roy is the least of his concerns. This... immature idiot doesn't –

His furious thoughts come to a full stop once he sees Roy's timid and frightened face looking up at him. _Shit_. Roy's no longer the confident man he saw a second ago, and Oliver has to remind himself Roy's only _twenty-one_. The last thing he needs is someone like Oliver to make him feel bad about himself.

Sighing heavily, Oliver sits back down and resists the urge to leave this meeting so he can curl up on his bed. There's a part of him that wants to tell young and naïve Roy the truth about being an escort. It's not all glamorous – the feeling of emptiness continues to grow as his clientele expands, and no amount of money can fix that for him. Wanting a real, loving relationship is out of the question, especially since he gets paid to simulate that kind of relationship for thousands of dollars a day. And worst of all, Roy reminds Oliver of himself. He wants to shield Roy from this life, but can't fault him for choosing this path when there's (presumably) nothing else for him.

"Why are you doing this?"

Roy's brows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . why did you decide to become an escort?"

His intrusive question throws Roy off balance. Oliver can see the gears running in his head, wondering if Oliver's question is a sincere one. After a few seconds, Roy looks down at the ground and mumbles, "I need the money."

There it is – the truth. "Yeah, so did I." Roy's eyes snap up to his, curious to know Oliver's secrets. His chest tightens and his throat closes up, but Oliver shoves the feeling aside.

"Whatever you do, don't get lost in the girls, money, and the perks of being an escort, okay?" Roy senses Oliver's telling him something serious, and Oliver keeps a careful eye on him to make sure he's listening carefully. "Because once you do, there's no endgame and you're stuck. Whatever you do, don't get stuck. Move on from this once you're ready."

"So . . . why haven't _you_ moved on?"

It's a simple question, but it completely throws Oliver off balance. For one, Roy's more intuitive than Oliver gave him credit for but Roy's right - Oliver _hasn't_ moved on and does everything he can to stay where he's at. He has enough money to stop being a prostitute, and yet, he's made zero effort to leave this profession.

And it scares him how easily he's able to continuously ruin his life.

* * *

"Ooh yes, oh my God!"

Oliver is having _the_ hardest time fucking a new client who loves to scream for no reason. Never mind the fact she's been viciously clawing at him and keeps making faces which probably feels sexy to her, but _definitely_ causes Oliver's dick to go soft. He wants to come so that he can get this over with, but she refuses to let him go until her allotted forty-five minute time limit is up.

To pass the time Oliver thinks about a sea trout recipe he wants to cook when he comes home, but he's deciding whether or not to go simple or spicy. Sea trout usually tastes best when it's lightly seasoned, and baking it allows –

"YES! RIGHT THERE!"

He flinches at her fake screams, because all he's done thus far is ram his cock in and out of her and has been in the same missionary position since forever. There's been nothing worth screaming about.

_The things I do for a few thousand dollars . . ._

His client is a woman in her late forties to early fifties, but it's obvious she has far too much money and doesn't know what to do with it. Between her long acrylic nails, obnoxious fur coat she came in, and her porn-like screaming, Oliver's unsure if she's a real person to begin with. She's fake as they come – pun intended – but she _is_ a client, and he has to suck it up if he wants to keep his job.

"You like that?" he grunts. His arms are hurting from literally planking above her, but she strictly forbade him from getting close to her and wants to keep some distance between them.

"I didn't say you could talk." Her over-the-top demeanor is replaced by an icy stare, and her abrupt change in behavior scares Oliver. Not wanting to suffer her wrath and her long nails scraping his back, he clamps his mouth shut and continues to please her as she asked.

A couple seconds later she relaxes just enough to bring a hand and pinch his nipple – _hard_. Upon seeing Oliver's obvious discomfort, she giggles and goes back to being an annoying client who doesn't know when to stop.

Glancing at the clock, Oliver sees that he has fifteen minutes left into their appointment. He can't handle this anymore – he's going to have to either fake an orgasm or force himself to come. Unfortunately, if he fakes it then he'll be left with a hard-on (he really needs to cool it with the Viagra), and he can't afford to let that happen. Sighing internally, Oliver decides the best course of action is to come.

His client is anything but desirable; however, he's been blessed with a vivid imagination. Briefly closing his eyes, Oliver conjures up an image of a woman bent over a desk, her ass staring up at him with its perfect glory. Her skirt is pooled around her waist, and her hands are gripping the other end of the desk. Oliver can feel himself starting to get turned on by this imagery, and licking his lips he presses forward with his fantasy.

Then suddenly his fantasy-girl moans a soft "Oliver" and a head of blonde hair appears in front of him. His workplace fantasy is replaced by his time spent with Felicity in the hotel room, where he took her from behind and experienced the most pleasurable moment of his life.

_Oh no._

This is a new low for Oliver – daydreaming about fucking Felicity in the middle of an appointment? Whether or not he wants to admit it, he's clearly head over heels about Felicity, but he can't afford to let it cloud his work. If he can't get aroused when he's not with Felicity, then it's going to severely affect his job – today's appointment is the perfect example of what could happen if he doesn't dedicate enough time and energy to pleasing his client.

Yet, he has a job to finish and he genuinely can't stand being with this woman for a minute longer. _Fuck it._ Taking a deep breath Oliver opens his eyes and, with renewed vigor, starts slamming into his client just enough to make her go wild.

As his client falls deeper into oblivion (which includes a lot more obnoxious yelling), Oliver's mind goes wild with images of Felicity riding on top of him, softly mewling underneath him, and various positions in several places he'd love to take her. His mind lands on one particular image of them fucking on his kitchen counter, clothes still on and embracing each other as passion overtakes them. It's enough to make him get closer to the edge, but his client's constant screaming is killing the vibe.

Getting sick of her antics Oliver pulls out, and amidst her protests, he flips her over on her stomach. She says something but her words are muffled by the pillows, and Oliver takes this opportunity to take control of the situation.

"Let's try something new, m'kay?" Lifting the woman's ass up to him, Oliver slides back into her with ease and begins to take her from behind, quickly building up a frantic tempo.

His client says something along the lines of "That's not what I ordered you to do" but Oliver ignores her and continues fucking her. Bringing a hand underneath, Oliver rubs her clit and her protests immediately subside. _Thank God_. Now that she's finally shut up (although her screams have been replaced by moaning that's borderline loud squealing), Oliver focuses on imagining himself with Felicity and finishing this awful appointment.

Before Oliver knows it he's reaching the point of no return, and sticks to imagining how he felt when he had sex with Felicity. As the fantasy intensifies, his mind becomes a hazy pool of every naughty position he wants to do with Felicity. _Perfect_. A pressure builds inside of him and now he's lost complete control over himself.

"Fuck!" Gasping, he comes unceremoniously, a low moan emanating from him. His body twitches at the release and he moans once more as his orgasm dissipates. Even though he came, it was definitely one of the most boring orgasms he's had, but at least this gives him an opportunity to peace the hell out of here. He's had enough of this wannabe porn star client and intends to never see her again.

Breathing heavily, Oliver detangles himself from the client, and immediately rushes over to where his clothes lay. The woman is now lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling and not saying a word. She's breathing heavily too – although Oliver disliked having sex with her, she was clearly satisfied, which means he did his job. As Oliver disposes of the condom and begins to put on his clothes, the woman props herself up on her elbows and faces Oliver, her eyes twinkling in mischief. From this vantage point, Oliver can clearly see that she got a boob job and a few nips and tucks.

"So . . . when's the next time I can see you?"

_Oh shit_. Oliver's a terrible liar, and he's not sure if he can lie his way through this. Still, he manages to smile, and as he throws his shirt over his head he explains, "It depends on my schedule."

"But –"

Gathering his payment and shoes, Oliver heads straight to the hotel door and tries not to trip as he puts his shoes on. The client is watching him with wide eyes, shocked by his abruptness. Trying to soften the blow so that she won't complain to Isabel, he says, "It really isn't up to me. You'll have to contact the agency."

"Oh." Her eyes fall down to the bed and she pouts. For a split moment Oliver feels bad for her – most of the women who come to him are lonely and need a bit of something to spice up their life, and he doesn't doubt this woman was feeling lonely too. But then he remembers how she scarred his back with her nails and destroyed his eardrums with her incessant screaming, and Oliver's petty side comes back in full force.

Once he puts on his shoes and straightens himself out, Oliver dials up his charm and winks at his client. "See you around." Not wanting to spend another second in the room, Oliver swiftly opens the door, firmly closes it shut behind him and practically runs to the elevator. He smells of sex but there's no way in hell he's going to shower in the room.

Getting inside the elevator, Oliver takes a deep breath and rests his head against the wall. Shaking his head, Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Sometimes being a prostitute requires _a lot_ more acting than he's used to. In any other circumstance Oliver would've easily pampered his client and not left in a hurry like that, yet this time around . . . He messed up. Badly. The client – he forgot her name the moment he stepped inside the hotel room – hired him for a specific purpose, and it was his job to deliver. He didn't.

Unfortunately today, Oliver did the unthinkable and let his personal feelings for Felicity slither into his appointment. He's no stranger to finding ways to arouse himself with an undesirable client, but this was unspeakable. Felicity's his . . . _friend_ , and he can't be thinking about her like that all the time. It's one thing to imagine her in various states of undress in his private time, but another when it starts leaking into his work. If this continues, he could have a hard time focusing on every client who comes his way, which could lead to bad reviews and Isabel's wrath.

Shaking his head once more, Oliver straightens himself up and puts on a brave face. He shouldn't fret about losing his edge, at least not yet. The best course of action is to control his feelings about Felicity but that's easier said than done.

_Damn it_. Not only does he have to act during work, but he also has to act in his personal life. Oliver's _definitely_ got his work cut out for him.

* * *

Today is a regular Tuesday for Felicity – she's been swamped with work, and because she _kind_ _of_ slacked off on Monday, she's still at the office well into the evening. Felicity was about to leave at eight but her boss appeared out of nowhere, asked where she was going and promptly asked for another set of documents. Sometimes, she feels as if she's being punished for being a woman and smarter than the entire company's payroll combined, but soon she'll be the one barking orders to employees well into the evening.

Oliver, bless him, offered to bring her deep dish pizza to make her night run smoother and prevent her from going on a hangry outburst on her boss. She's already set up the table and bought his favorite soda, and patiently waits for him.

Her phone vibrates with a text sent from Oliver that he's in front of the door. Buzzing with excitement, she practically runs to the door and smiles widely when she sees Oliver holding a box of pizza. Normally Felicity spends a good amount of time ogling Oliver's impressive physique, but tonight she only has eyes for the pizza. "Thank God you're here!"

Laughing, Oliver enters the room and looks around. "I figured you would be hungry. Is this your office?"

"No." Felicity turns around and heads to the main eating area, and explains the situation to Oliver. "Kord Industries owns most of this building, and because there's a lot of confidential information, we're not allowed to bring outside people on certain floors." They reach the table Felicity had set up and she promptly sits down, her stomach growling in hunger. "They've designated a couple of floors for casual hangouts."

"Wow, fancy." Oliver places the pizza box on the table, which Felicity immediately opens and digs into. He got a small size pizza but she wishes he'd gotten a medium, because there's no doubt in her mind she'll eat more than two slices.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a whale." Putting a cheesy slice on her plate, Felicity immediately digs into her food, oblivious to Oliver's amused and slightly judgmental smile.

Shaking his head, he places a slice on his plate and takes a bite. "Mm. I haven't had deep dish in a while."

Felicity can only nod in agreement as she's busy stuffing her face with more bites. She spots him smiling once more at her antics before going back to eating his food. They stay that way for a minute, quiet, as they're undoubtedly hungry from a long day of work. Once Felicity's stomach is satisfied, she stops and takes a breather.

"Whew. I was so nauseous from not eating anything." She takes a sweet sip from her soda can, letting the cool drink soothe her throat.

"What do you mean you were nauseous?" Oliver's voice is laced with concern, and he eyes her worryingly.

She rolls her eyes and waves off his concerns. "You know, I lost track of time, didn't eat anything, then thought I could wait an extra couple of hours for pizza." Upon seeing Oliver's less than amused face, Felicity softens her gaze. "I promise I'm not doing this on purpose. I misjudged my stamina, that's all."

To prove her point, Felicity cuts off a large bite and shoves it into her mouth, only to realize she can't fit the entire piece. She struggles for a moment, to which Oliver watches with a slightly disgusted expression. _Meanie_. When Felicity finally swallows the piece, she smiles in triumphantly and takes a large swing of soda from her can. "Ah. See? I'm perfectly fine."

" _Okay_. Whatever you say, Chief." Oliver leans back in his chair and asks, "How was work?"

Shrugging, Felicity takes another bite before answering him. (This pizza is truly delicious.) "Same old, same old."

"Does this mean we still can't meet up on Wednesday?"

"I'm sorry, it's still a no. We're almost done with another project, which means the entire office will be putting in long hours for a while." Oliver nods but she still feels bad. "I really am sorry."

"Hey, you never have to apologize for being busy," Oliver reassures her. He smiles to at her and adds, "But does this mean we can make it up on Friday?" His face lights up in hopefulness, but once again Felicity has to dash his hopes.

She shakes her head. "I have a company gala to attend."

It's the first time she's been invited to the yearly event. Typically invitations are reserved for chief officers, key investors, benefactors, social elites and politicians who could benefit Kord Industries in the future. Felicity takes it as a good sign major company heads are noticing her, and this could lead to a promotion she's been wanting for the past year.

"Oh?" His eyebrows rise in curiosity. "Is it a charity gala or...?"

Frowning, Felicity takes a moment to remember what the invitation said but fails. "I don't remember, actually. I'm assuming it's just for the company because charity galas happen on the weekend, right?"

Oliver shrugs. "Don't look at me, I wouldn't know."

"You've never had a client take you to a charity gala?"

His brows furrow, but suddenly, Oliver's expression becomes clouded and his face pales slightly. Alarmed by his abrupt mood change, Felicity almost asks if he's all right before Oliver beats her to it. "I think I have, once." Clearing his throat, Oliver adds cheerfully, "But I remember she wanted me there to show off to a group of annoying socialites. I got paid triple that night."

She's still wondering why his expression changed in that brief moment, but lets it slide for now. "Congrats?"

"It's nothing worth congratulating."

At this point Felicity's already finished her first slice and is about to dive into the second. "How was work?"

Oliver grimaces and shakes his head. "Had a couple of cancellations. My first client was a nightmare. Scratched my back, screamed like she was in a porno, and forced me to be in the same position for eons."

"Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" Felicity smirks as she cuts another piece from her pizza.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"After all the teasing you do to me, getting your back scratched is _exactly_ what you deserve." She obnoxiously takes a loud sip from her soda can and watches as his eyes narrow at her.

Chewing on the inside of his cheeks, Oliver leans back in his seat and eyes her carefully. His intense expression causes Felicity to slightly squirm in her seat. "If that's the case, I hope you embarrass yourself in front of the CEO Friday night. Actually, I already know you're going to do that, so it's only a matter of time, isn't it?"

_He did not . . ._ "You know what? I'm not even mad about what you said."

"Really?" Oliver's eyes twinkle in mischief and he haughtily crosses his arms, waiting for Felicity to come up with a witty reply.

"Mm hmm." Felicity swiftly takes out her tablet she keeps at her side at all times, and pays Oliver – who's peering over the table to see what she's doing – no mind. After securing a safe Internet connection, Felicity enters the Dark Web where Emerald's website is located. She easily hacks into the website (its security is laughable, she really should help them make it more secure) and gets into Oliver's profile. It hasn't changed from the last time she saw it, but he's in for a surprise.

Felicity swiftly uploads a new profile picture for him and smirks as she admires her creativity. Now that her work is complete, she wordlessly hands the tablet to Oliver, and gleefully watches his face go from amusement to horror.

"What. Did. You. _Do_?" His eyes are glued to the screen as he tries to undo Felicity's handicraft. Felicity uploaded a random picture of a drunken man doing heinous things with a mannequin, and although the man looks nothing like Oliver, potential clients clearly don't know that.

Revenge can be _so_ sweet.

After taking a savory bite of pizza Felicity explains, "I hacked into Emerald's website and gave you a makeover."

Oliver's jaw clenches and he raises an eyebrow, silently telling her not to test him. "Take it down – _now_."

"Why?" Felicity sighs dramatically and relaxes in her chair, grinning once she sees Oliver's face turn redder by the second. "I think you look good like this."

"Felicity," he warns. For a moment there's an intense eye staring contest, but after weighing the pros and cons – this is Oliver's livelihood after all, she can't ruin it for him – Felicity acquiesces.

" _Fine_." She doesn't miss Oliver sighing in relief, and as he hands her the tablet back she clicks her tongue. "But you have to apologize first."

Oliver scoffs and crosses his arms. "Seriously? For what?"

"You know exactly what."

A tense silence envelops them – well, as tense as a _somewhat_ lighthearted situation can be – and Oliver shakes his head. "Sorry, but I'm not big on apologizing."

Placing the table on the table, Felicity folds her hands together in defiance. "Well sorry, but I'm not big on doing things you order me to do."

At this point Oliver's seething, but Felicity knows he has zero bargaining power. It's been awhile since Felicity's properly hacked into anything – she's not big on advertising it, especially given Kord Industries is working towards creating a complex and bulletproof cyber security system. She's never told Oliver she has this very specific skill set, but she's positive he won't tattle on her.

Although he _just_ might if she doesn't change his profile picture within the next minute.

"I swear to – _fine_. I'm . . . sorry." Fuming under his breath, Oliver finally relents although Felicity knows it pains him to do so. "I won't make fun of you again."

"Atta boy." No doubt her comment irks Oliver because he clenches his jaw and restrains himself from saying something mean. Felicity smirks and relishes having the upper hand for a second longer before working to undo the damage. They're quiet once more as Felicity removes the image, but once she does she hands the tablet back to Oliver. "See? All fixed now."

Visibly relieved, Oliver places the tablet to the side and eyes her apprehensively. For a second she wonders if he's going to ask her how she learned how to hack and tries to prepare an innocuous response. Instead, his lips tug upward into a tight smile and he says, "You're remarkable, Felicity. But you're also a pain in my ass."

"Oh trust me, I know."

* * *

"Aren't you going to be late?"

Oliver is relaxing on Felicity's couch, while she runs back and forth from her room to the bathroom as she gets ready for the gala. He spots her long dress sashaying away into her room then reappear once more when she runs to the bathroom. Oliver's never watched her get dressed before, but considering how frantic she seems, he's just glad he doesn't have to do his hair and makeup before going anywhere. Men really do have it easy compared to women.

"I know," Felicity bemoans. "I don't know what I was thinking – I lost track of time at work and didn't have enough time to get ready."

_Typical Felicity_. Oliver smiles knowingly and taps his fingers atop a velvet box, patiently waiting for Felicity to leave her bedroom so he can give her his gift.

He hadn't meant to bring it to her, but when he realized this was the first gala Felicity had ever been too, he wanted to do something special for her. Oliver's no stranger to galas – he's been to his fair share of them, and always disliked pretending to be chummy with everyone. He hopes she won't have a hard time there because feigning interest in people's conversations about their million dollar yachts is tiresome, and he knows Felicity doesn't care about that. Perhaps his gift will make her feel like she belongs and give her an opportunity to feel pampered. She deserves it.

"Okay, I think I'm ready."

Turning around, Oliver's prepared to see Felicity in a simple black dress, but instead she looks like a goddess in a long, flowing green gown. It hugs her curves and accentuates her strong shoulders, and her hair is a soft halo with golden waves cascading down her back. She's forgone wearing her glasses in favor of contacts, and her blue eyes look gently back at him. Her lips – God, her lips – are painted in a striking red, and she stands a few inches taller with the help of her heels.

She's an absolute vision.

His mouth suddenly goes dry, and his heart beats a little faster, surprised he's a little unnerved to realize he's speechless. What he would give to see her in anything like this – or nothing.

"You're kind of scaring me here." Felicity laughs nervously and fidgets under his gaze, and suddenly she's the nervous client he met all those months ago.

"No, no, I'm . . . Felicity, you look beautiful. Stunning."

He sincerely means it. The moment she steps inside the gala all eyes will be on her. There's a selfish part of him which wishes he were her date, because he wants the world to know he's hers. She's bewitched him, body and soul.

Rolling her eyes Felicity says, "All right, you don't have to lie to me. But this gown did cost me a pretty penny."

"And it looks like it." He smiles gently as he can tell Felicity's not accustomed to dressing up like this. "You'll be the most gorgeous woman at the gala."

Felicity laughs and shyly tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. "I think you're exaggerating a bit."

Oliver decides to not press further and make her uncomfortable, but he hopes she won't mind his gift. "I actually got you something."

"Really? For what?"

Gathering the velvet box, Oliver stands up and walks over to Felicity, smiling as he does so. Her eyes widen when she sees what's in his hands, and her mouth opens in protest. "No buts."

"Oliver," she whines. "That looks like a very expensive box. I don't mean to assume it has anything expensive in it even though it looks like it . . . " Felicity closes her eyes in embarrassment and shakes her head. "I'm going to stop talking now."

He lets out a small laugh and opens the box. It's a diamond necklace from Harry Winston, with nearly 50 carats worth of diamonds neatly surrounded by platinum. It's a stunning design and the employee at Harry Winston was delighted Oliver chose this necklace. He doesn't know much about jewelry – well, aside from how expensive they can be – but everything his mother owned paled in comparison to this.

Oliver takes it as a good sign when he notices Felicity's mouth is hanging open. "Obviously I'll have to return it tomorrow morning, but I figured I should make your first gala experience a little more bearable."

"Oliver, I don't . . ." She looks up at him in wonder, her eyes shining with earnestness. "You didn't have to do this."

"I _wanted_ to, Felicity." He has a strange desire to gently touch her cheek – she's so close to him, and her sweet perfume is filling up his nostrils, making him want to embrace her till the end of time.

But seeing she's on a time crunch, that'll have to take a backseat.

"Here, let me put this on you."

Nodding, Felicity walks to the mirror placed by the door and Oliver follows suit. Carefully, he removes the necklace from the box and unhooks it, while Felicity gathers her hair and moves it to the side. This causes Oliver to have a fantastic view of her long and smooth neck, which makes him briefly imagine what it would be like to kiss it. _Slow and soft first, then a little bite there..._

Pushing those thoughts to the side, Oliver brings either end of the necklace together at the nape of her neck and gently closes it. Instinctively, Oliver's finger touch the front of her necklace, moving it a little to the side so that it rests exactly in the middle. When he glances up at the mirror, his face is resting a mere inch away from Felicity's and their closeness sets Oliver's heart racing.

Felicity hasn't said a word, but her eyes are wide and she's gazing at Oliver with such a soft expression he can't _think_. God, it would be so easy to kiss her right now. All he has to do is turn her face towards him and it'll all fall into place.

Oliver removes his hand from the necklace, but in doing so his fingers accidentally brush against her shoulder blade. As he remembered, her skin is soft and smooth, and he wants nothing more to tell Felicity he -

_No_. He can't do that. He can't admit to himself, let alone Felicity, that's he's fallen for her. What's she going to do with that information? Be in a relationship with him? Oliver's a _prostitute_. He has an illegal and immoral profession, whereas Felicity has her whole future ahead of her. Besides, there's been no indication on Felicity's end she has feelings for him. Telling her he cares about her – non-platonically – might ruin their tentative relationship, and he doesn't want to place that burden on her.

Ostentatiously clearing his throat, Oliver steps back and tries to pretend he didn't spend the last minute thinking about kissing her and being in a relationship with her. Rubbing his hands together, Oliver nods at her and asks, "What do you think?" His voice cracks, betraying his nonchalant question.

Felicity blinks rapidly as if she was in a daze herself. "I , , , I think for the first time in my life I'm speechless."

He can't help but be charmed by her response and he looks down at his shoes. "I guess that's a good thing."

"It is." She's fixed her hair now – her golden waves tumble down her back once more, covering her gorgeous neck. "I have a feeling this necklace will be the center of attention."

"I don't think so. It's the _person_ wearing it that makes the necklace."

Knowing she can't argue with that, Felicity grins and checks her phone. "Yikes. If I wasn't late before, I'm definitely late now." She heads straight to the door, but turns around and offers, "You can stay here if you want."

"No, that's okay. I have an appointment tonight so . . ."

"Ah." She takes one last look in the mirror before turning towards Oliver, her eyes shining with excitement. "Do I look ready? I think I'm ready."

His chest tightens due to an unknown feeling he doesn't want to look at too closely and he smiles warmly. "Knock 'em dead, Cinderella."

"Eh, I consider myself more of a Tiana, especially given the green dress." He looks up at her in confusion because _Who the hell is Tiana?_ Rolling her eyes, Felicity turns around and unlocks her door, but not before throwing Oliver a glance over her shoulder. "If I don't get a promotion after tonight, I'm blaming it on you."

Oliver laughs loudly as Felicity smiles back at him. He has no doubt that Felicity's charm and intellect will attract many powerful people, and he hopes they admire Felicity for who she is. She deserves all the recognition in the world.

"And Oliver?"

"Yeah?" He's still smiling, but Felicity's face has gone a bit serious. He's briefly worried if something's wrong.

"Thank you for the necklace," she says softly. "It means the world to me."

_And thank you for being the only friend I've had in the past five years. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for giving me something to look forward to._

"You never have to thank me."

Felicity nods and gently shuts the door behind her, leaving Oliver alone and aching for something more than a friendship.

* * *

It's settled then: attending galas is Felicity's least favorite thing. Well, that and kangaroos.

The moment she stepped into the gala all the women flocked to her, which bothered Felicity to the utmost degree. All they wanted to do was fawn over her necklace and Felicity had no idea how to carry on a conversation with them. It made her uncomfortable to discuss money and other frivolous things because she's never been in a financial position to even fathom having those items.

However, she would be lying if she didn't feel like the prettiest woman in the world. Although the necklace has brought some unwanted attention, it also makes her feel like a princess ready to conquer the world. As Oliver had predicted, the second she stepped inside the room all eyes were on her. For a moment it threw her off – she's not accustomed to people staring at her – but once Felicity began to feel comfortable in her skin, she started to feel like she belonged.

She's still a little shocked Oliver got her something so extravagant, but it's times like these which make her truly value her friendship with Oliver. It's as if he knows exactly how to make her happy even if she's never mentioned it before. He's always so attentive and there for her, and Felicity feels bad she hasn't devoted as much time to him as he has to her. She doesn't do it on purpose and Oliver, bless him, knows that and doesn't begrudge her for it. Regardless, Felicity doesn't want him to feel this friendship is one-sided when it's the complete opposite.

Although Felicity's thankful for her friendship with Oliver, sometimes she thinks she's teetering on the edge of something she's _not_ willing to explore. The moment when he put on the necklace had her heart racing, and she didn't know what to think of it. She's vowed to never view Oliver in a romantic way because they're _friends_. And yet . . .

Typically, when Felicity opens up to someone it means she's in a serious relationship with them. She's never had a close friendship before, which is why her companionship with Oliver is throwing her out of balance. Felicity's been physically intimate with him, and now they're emotionally intimate, yet they're not boyfriend and girlfriend. She doesn't have strong feelings that go beyond that of a friend, but because she's been with him physically there's a part of her that feels her emotional connection isn't enough.

Perhaps Felicity's having these emotions because she hasn't been in an _actual_ relationship since college, and _that_ one ended in a complete disaster. She's scared to open herself up only to have the one she loves ripped away from her. It's probably why Felicity seeks out emotional intimacy with Oliver, but chooses not to engage in an actual relationship with him knowing it could end in tragedy.

That and the fact Oliver's a first class prostitute.

Pushing those thoughts to the side, Felicity decides the best course of action is to continue being the friend Oliver deserves. What they have is good and she doesn't want to ruin that. Besides, she has a career to cultivate, and worrying about these feelings will only get in the way of her work. From here on out it's all about rising up to the top, and this gala is going to set the tone for the rest of her life.

Tonight Felicity's met with a few politicians and higher ups from Kord Industries, but after an hour Felicity noticed she hasn't seen anyone from her office. If anything her boss should've been here, not her, but as she continues to socialize, Felicity starts to feel suspicious. She'll admit it was a complete surprise getting invited to the gala. Typically these events were reserved for powerful people, not someone like Felicity. The fact that Felicity's boss isn't in attendance must mean the chief officers may be promoting her, or they simply want to know her better. Either way, Felicity has to make a good impression.

Shortly before it's time for dinner, Felicity heads to the bathroom to freshen up. She goes straight to the mirror, making sure her hair is still in place and her makeup hasn't slid off. It's quiet and empty, which means she can scan her teeth for any lipstick stains. (She's in the clear.) Taking out her lipstick, Felicity leans forward against the counter and begins to reapply her lipstick. She's happily in her zone, concentrating on staying inside the lines, when a dark figure appears over to the side.

Gasping, Felicity freezes up as a large, hulking man walks towards her. Turning around, she yelps loudly and almost screams for the police when the looming figure steps forward, hands raised and eyes wide with fear. "Wait! I'm not – please don't scream."

Her heart still racing, Felicity assesses the situation before her. The figure in front of her is a tall man in an immaculate suit. He doesn't fit the typical description for a rapist, but she knows looks can be deceiving. The man's hands are still raised above him, but he slowly steps forward as he gauges her reaction. As he comes closer Felicity can't help but recoil in fear, but stops the moment she recognizes the person.

It's Ray Palmer, CEO of Palmer Tech, one of the most profitable companies in the world.

_What the fuck?_ This absurd situation demands answers.

"What are you doing here?"

He laughs nervously and he maintains caution as he takes one final step towards her. "Uh . . . I'm – well, I'm actually hiding from security."

Felicity takes his opportunity to scan his body for any lurking weapons, but nothing abnormal seems to be sticking out of his suit. Satisfied for now, she realizes he's actually wearing a tux instead of a suit and has a ticket sticking out of his pant pocket.

"Then why are you hiding from security if you have a ticket to the gala?"

Clearly catching him off guard, Ray shoves his hand inside his pocket and takes the ticket out. "Well, it's not really a ticket. It's fake." Flipping the ticket back and forth, he eventually turns it over to show Felicity it's not the real thing. "Actually, I'm pretty proud of myself for making it. I'm not big on Photoshop – quantum physics is more my thing – but I think I did a good job." He seems pretty pleased with himself and Felicity can't help but crack a tiny smile.

"So just to clarify, you're crashing the gala."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Ray sighs exasperatedly as if he's got a lot to inform her regarding why he's crashing the gala. _"_ Let's just say Ted and I have a bit of a healthy competition."

_Of course_. Two powerful, single billionaires _obviously_ would be competitive against one another – it's the law of nature. Felicity restrains herself from rolling her eyes in front of Ray but barely succeeds. "And that means you crash his gala and hide in the girl's bathroom."

"Well . . . _That_ was an unfortunate oversight." He seems genuinely embarrassed he's in this situation, and with each passing second Felicity finds herself softening under his gaze. "But I've only been here for about five minutes. It's been empty the whole time. I wouldn't come inside if someone were here. Because, you know, it's wrong and all."

Ray grimaces as Felicity eyes him incredulously. It appears Ray Palmer, famous CEO, has a bad case of word vomit. This information makes Felicity feel slightly better about her frequent public faux pas – sometimes the smartest people can be bumbling fools in the presence of others.

Deciding once and for all Ray is not a threat, Felicity takes a moment to _really_ look at Ray. He's ungodly tall and has a strong build, and his face is framed with dark hair. He's pretty good looking and has kind, earnest eyes, which isn't common for most CEOs.

She's paid attention to Palmer Tech over the years, and knows Ray is big on philanthropy and pushing limits on technology. His annual events are often the talk of town, as Palmer Tech has become a leader in all phones, computers and sustainable energy. Ray Palmer is always neck and neck with Ted Kord in Forbes' "500 Richest People in the World," and both companies are constantly competing against one another to produce the best tech out there.

Wanting to know more about why Ray is at the event, Felicity asks, "But why do you feel the need to crash his gala?"

"Great question. He rudely interrupted an investors meeting meant for my company a while ago." Running a hand through his hair, Ray smirks and slightly leans forward as if he's trying to tell her a secret. "I figured I should return the favor."

No matter how much money these men make, or how many awards they've amassed, their ego will always get the best of them. Men can be _so_ fragile. "I hate to be the one to say this but I think Mr. Kord's won this round, Mr. Palmer."

He outright laughs in her face, but she doesn't get what's so funny – after all, _he's_ the one hiding in a girl's bathroom from security. "Right. And please call me Ray, Miss . . ."

She debates telling Ray her full name, since for all he knows she could be a socialite, not an employee at his rival's company. Besides, her anonymity has helped her gain a lot of information out of Ray, and revealing the truth might cut the conversation short. But there's something about Ray that makes her want to open up to him.

"Smoak. It's Felicity Smoak."

Upon recognizing her name Ray's eyes light up and he smiles. "Wait, I know you. Not know you _know_ you, but I've heard about you. Didn't you graduate from MIT?"

She's surprised he knows that information. However, Palmer Tech is known for hiring recent graduates, and she doesn't doubt he does his homework on students graduating from MIT and Caltech. "I did, yes."

Nodding, Ray excitedly clasps his hands together. "Yeah . . . Your research on picotechnology was spectacular. I wish I could get my hands on that paper."

"Thank you." Beaming with pride, Felicity tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "I haven't touched it since I started working at Kord Industries, but it would be nice to research it a little more."

"You know, Palmer Tech _does_ have one of the best Applied Sciences divisions in the country." Leaning forward, he smiles and says, "We could benefit from having a genius like you working for the company."

Glancing shyly down at the floor, Felicity tries her best not to brush off his compliment since it has become a habit of hers. There's a part of her that can't handle it when people compliment her, because she's worked hard to let her work speak for itself, and found people get jealous easily whenever she talks about her accomplishments. Keeping her head low has helped her quietly work up the ranks, and it's clearly worked for her since she's the only one from her department at this gala.

Still, Felicity can't stop herself deflecting Ray's comment. "Isn't one enough?"

"Not at all!" He seriously looks offended by that suggestion, and his response warms her chest a little. "Two minds are always better than one."

Well, she can't argue with that. There's a nice moment between them – they're both smiling knowingly, and for a brief second Felicity wonders what it would be like to work with someone who's her equal. Ted Kord is also a certified genius, but Felicity's never personally worked with him. It does get a little lonely in her office, and she thinks maybe working alongside Ray will be as easy as making pie.

Or in her case, it will be easy as burning pie.

Suddenly, Ray loudly clears his throat and glances down at his watch. He winces, obviously not too keen on how much time has passed. "I should get going before this debacle gets leaked to the media."

"Oh. Okay."

His abruptness is a bit jarring, but he _is_ a very famous man and having this leak out to the press would definitely make him a laughing stock. She feels a little awkward standing by herself, but Ray slowly comes forward with his hand outstretched. Holding out his business card Ray offers, "If you ever change your mind, give me a call. I'd be happy to give you a tour – or something better – at Palmer Tech."

As Felicity takes the business card, Felicity tries to process what Ray said, but once she does she doesn't know how to react. Not only did he offer to give her a tour, but suggested something less workplace appropriate. But upon glancing up at Ray's reddened face, Felicity knows he didn't mean for it to come out the way it sounded. She's _so_ close to laughing in his face, because this is already the second time he's made a fool out of himself. If only Oliver could see this exchange.

"And when I say 'something better' I mean a potential job offer, not . . ." Refusing to look at her in the eye, Ray shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. "Sorry, I didn't mean –"

"That's all right." Felicity feels bad for the poor guy, as she's no stranger to blurting out embarrassing things. "I'll definitely keep your offer in mind. The _job offer_."

Laughing boisterously, Ray's eyes shine with amusement and he grins. "It was nice meeting you, Felicity." His face softens after saying her name, and a strange sensation courses through Felicity. She's warm and relaxed, and it shocks her how _good_ it feels. Ray's looking at her gently too, and Felicity thinks maybe the feeling is mutual.

"You too, Ray."

It's quiet for a moment as Ray starts walking towards the door. There's a sense of disappointment in the air – despite their unique encounter, she wishes she could speak with Ray a while longer but understands he has to leave. He's proven himself to be (awkwardly) charming, handsome, smart, humble and gutsy all in a single encounter. Ray's definitely left an impression on her – question is, did she leave an impression on him?

"Well, uh, good luck. With, you know, security going all 'Grr' behind you."

He laughs once more as he places a hand on the door handle. "Thanks, I'll be needing that. I hope you enjoy your dinner." Opening the door, Ray looks left and right for potential security guards. When the coast is clear, he exits the bathroom quietly, leaving Felicity alone once more.

She stares at the door for a minute, replaying their conversation in her head. She catches herself smiling and it shocks her how easily she was able to lower her guard with Ray. Usually when Felicity's in the presence of smart men she's always on the defensive and poised to attack if someone dares doubt her abilities. But with Ray, she found herself having an easy conversation and not worrying about the fact he's a powerful CEO. He really is something.

Toying with his business card, Felicity puts it inside her clutch and promises to keep it in a safe place. She turns around to finish putting on her lipstick, but nearly screams in horror as she realizes she has a red streak all over her upper lip, and carried on an entire conversation like this.

_Oh frack._ There's no doubt in her mind she's left an impression on Ray, but for all the wrong reasons.

Oliver _was_ right – she was bound to make an ass out of herself. And she absolutely hates it when he's right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets an offer that seems too good to be true, while someone from Oliver's past collides with his present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They really make my day, you have no idea. Once again, many thanks to @curvy-tam and @the-mimi-hiddleston for being the best beta and cheerleaders out there, as well as Sam (srmiller) for being a godsend. You're the best.

Since Felicity has very little time to herself outside of work, she has to find unique ways to relax during the day, which means she spends the majority of her lunch breaks watching movies on Netflix or catching up on TV shows. Unfortunately for everyone else in the building, Netflix and other social media sites are blocked on Kord Industries’ Internet. Fortunately for Felicity, she had the foresight to bring her own laptop and to download the TOR browser, and knows how to set up a secure Internet connection with a click of a button.

She really is too smart for her own good.

Felicity hasn’t been able to watch anything in a couple of days since she’s gone out to eat, but today she made sure she had zero plans to hang out during lunch. As Felicity types Netflix’s URL, the ringing from her office phone interrupts her concentration. She considers letting it go to voicemail since her secretary has also gone out to lunch, but panics the moment she sees the call is coming from Palmer Tech.

After her random meeting with Ray and attending the gala, Felicity had all but forgotten about her conversation with him. Work had immediately picked up the following Monday – unfortunately the gala did not get her promoted, but she thinks she’s made a few good impressions – and Felicity hasn’t had time to think since then. She would be lying if she said her heart didn’t start racing when she saw his number on the caller ID.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Felicity picks up the phone. “Hello?”

_“Yes, hi, is this Miss Smoak’s office?”_

It’s Ray on the other line and she smiles at the new development. “This is Miss Smoak speaking. How are you, Mr. Palmer?”

_“Oh! Hi Felicity! And please, call me Ray!”_

His excitement is rubbing off on her because she’s stopped browsing the Internet and relaxes in her chair, intending for this conversation to last a while. “What can I do for you today?”

_“Nothing out of the ordinary, but I was wondering if you and I could meet up for a quick lunch? I haven’t forgotten about my offer, you see. And I would love to hear more about the research you did at MIT.”_

Well, this is a new development.

She was positive Ray had completely erased her from his memory, so she didn’t bother to contact him after the gala. It appears she was wrong about him. She _does_ have to give him credit where credit’s due – he’s persistent and has a strong memory.

Eyeing her laptop then the door, Felicity considers the pros and cons of meeting Ray. Pros: they would spend a nice hour chatting about things they’re passionate about, and maybe even get a job offer. Cons: he wants to use her to get to Ted Kord, doesn’t care about her accomplishments at all and this is his way of sneakily asking her out, or Ted could find out she’s had lunch with his rival and fire her.

Seeing there’s no harm in meeting him for a quick chat no one has to know about, Felicity shuts her laptop and gathers her purse. “Absolutely. Where should we meet?”

* * *

It turns out Ray’s idea of a quick lunch is eating out at David Burke’s Primehouse, one of the most famous steakhouses in Chicago. There are plenty of other important businessmen here conducting their meetings, but this fast-paced and fancy restaurant has Felicity feeling uncomfortable. They’ve already ordered their drinks and food, but at this point Felicity’s anxiously twiddling her thumbs, wondering what to say next.

“I trust the gala went swimmingly and you had fun?”

Smiling, Felicity toys with her glass of water, because talking about their chance meeting is an easy topic to discuss.  “I did, yes. And I’m assuming you successfully evaded security on your way out?”

He scoffs and shakes his head in defeat. “If evading security means running through the kitchen and getting butternut squash soup spilled on your tux, then I suppose that’s successful.”

Laughing, Felicity tries to imagine a 6’4” man (naturally she did a quick Wikipedia search on him after their unorthodox meeting) running through a cramped hotel kitchen. “I think you and I have different ideas of what successful means.”

“Maybe.” Ray leans back in his chair and eyes her carefully. It’s making her slightly uncomfortable, but she doesn’t detect any sort of malice beneath his stare. Felicity can tell Ray’s the kind of person who genuinely wants the best for everyone, and doesn’t have ulterior motives to suit his own needs.

“You know if I were Ted, I would’ve made you CTO by now.”

She almost chokes on her spit and tries to regain composure. He must think very highly of her, because she’s never considered being CTO. _Ever_.

“I . . . well, thank you, but Kord Industries already has a wonderful CTO. I think.”

Damn it, she didn’t mean to make it sound as if she doesn’t know whether or not Kord Industries has a CTO. Ray must think she’s an idiot, and eager to change that, Felicity tries to remedy the situation.

“I – I know we have a CTO – _obviously_ – but I don’t know if they’re wonderful.”

 _Fuck_ . Felicity’s so close to groaning loudly and smacking her face on the table. _Of course_ she would make things awkward and insinuate that Kord Industries’ CTO is horrible person. When will she be able to stop putting her foot in her mouth in public, especially in front of important people?

“You mean . . . you’ve never met them so you can’t speak on their wonderful-ness.”

 _Thank you Mr. Palmer_ , she thinks. Felicity gets a sudden urge to hug Ray and thank him for clarifying her comments. She’s incredibly lucky he didn’t mistake her faux pa as Felicity gossiping about Kord Industries’ chief officer.

“Right. So I wouldn’t know if they’re great people.”

Closing her eyes in defeat, Felicity silently counts backwards from three and attempts to restart her brain. At this point there’s nothing she can say that’ll save her from any further embarrassment, but she has to try. Taking a deep breath, she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart and makes another attempt to clear up her word vomit.

“But they obviously have to be . . . ”

“Well, I’m pretty sure they’re not as great as you.”

He really knows how to dial up the charm factor, doesn’t he? Felicity’s about to tell him she’s not as great as he thinks she is, but the waiter comes by with their food, effectively cutting her off. Ray had insisted she order the steak, but she’s afraid she won’t be able to finish it seeing that it’s _huge_.

“Holy moley that is big!” Ray’s eyes are wide in shock and he simply stares at his plate for a good five seconds.

“I’m not sure I can finish this.” She unrolls the napkin and places it on her thighs, getting ready to dig in. “But it looks delicious.”

“Can’t argue you there.” Taking a bite from the steak, Ray moans loudly and closes his eyes in euphoria. “This is honestly the best steak I’ve ever had.”

Eager to taste a bit of heaven, Felicity takes a bite from the steak and sighs contentedly. The meat melts into her mouth, it’s juices and seasoning creating a perfect harmony and making her tongue sing “Hallelujah.” Ray’s right – it’s the best steak ever.

“Oh my God. I usually have a hard time stuffing huge things in my mouth, but I’ll make an exception for this.”

 _That’s it -- I’m done for. RIP me._ Her skin burns in embarrassment and she closes her eyes, wishing she could rewind time and not say what she just said. Swallowing thickly – and afraid of what Ray’s expression will look like – Felicity slowly opens her eyes and squeaks, “I didn’t mean for that to sound . . .”

“Sound like what?”

For a moment she’s taken aback – he seems genuinely confused, but there’s a part of Felicity which thinks he’s pretending he didn’t hear what she said. Nevertheless, Felicity plays along, because she’s not willing to draw attention to her slip up anymore than she has to.

“Never mind. It’s, um, a very big meal.”

Ray smiles and points his fork at Felicity. “How about this: I give you ten bucks if I don’t finish this and the sides in... four minutes.” Ray wiggles his eyebrows. “Do you accept?”

This is certainly _not_ how she expected a potential job meeting to go. He’s a CEO of a multibillion-dollar company, but he’s a bit immature and thinks the world is his playground. Yet, there’s a part of Felicity that can’t help but find his enthusiasm infectious. And Felicity being Felicity, she can’t resist a challenge. If Ray thinks he’s competitive, he has no _idea_ what it really looks like.

“Game on, Mr. Palmer.”

* * *

It turns out Ray _can’t_ stuff an entire piece of steak and sides in four minutes. Ray tried valiantly, but it was either vomit in front of everyone in the restaurant or lose ten bucks. He chose to forego the ten dollars and handle five minutes of embarrassment, which in her opinion is a smart choice.

The conversation flowed easily during their lunch – they even discussed her research paper from MIT – but as they sit in front of their empty plates, Felicity can tell the conversation is about to take a serious turn.

Clearing his throat, Ray puts his napkin on the table and places his hands on the table. She hadn’t noticed this before, but under the sunlight his eyes look more hazel than brown, and she finds that it complements his warm personality. No doubt his suit, shoes and cufflinks are expensive, but he makes no indication that he values his possessions. If only all CEOs could behave like Ray.

Well, except for crashing a gala and going on a dare in the middle of a restaurant.

“So, I know I asked you here to discuss potentially working at Palmer Tech,” Ray begins. He’s gone somber and business-like, and Felicity straightens her back in preparation for the big spiel. “And I know you enjoy working at Kord, but I can see your true passion lies in research and Applied Sciences. Palmer Tech can easily become your playground. All you have to do is say the word.”

And she doesn’t doubt it. The whole world knows of Palmer Tech’s secret-but-hyped-about lab, and Felicity can imagine herself having a field day in there. While being an IT consultant means she frequents labs and makes overall decisions in the designs of products, it’s more semantics and less research. Discussing her research with Ray made her smile in more ways than one, and she realizes how much she misses research.

But something’s holding her back.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity toys with the tablecloth and steadies herself. “Mr. Palmer –”

“Ray –”

“ _Ray_ ,” she easily corrects herself. “I really do appreciate you wanting to speak with me, but I’m happy where I am.”

It’s quiet between them but thankfully it’s not tense. Ray’s eyes scrunch up in contemplation, and he takes a deep breath as he assesses what she said. Felicity’s heart, however, is beating rapidly as she waits for his response.

“What if I said you could have any position you want in Palmer Tech’s new headquarters up in Star City?”

 _What the what?_ The business world erupted a few months ago when Palmer Tech decided to move its main headquarters to Star City, so hearing about the move doesn’t surprise her. However, she hadn’t considered the fact Ray would do anything to hire her and she’s a little shocked. He’s willing to give her any position she asks for? That’s a tall order.

“I . . .”

Unperturbed, Ray promptly takes out a pen and paper from his coat pocket. Placing it in front of Felicity he tells her, “Here, you write down the amount you want and I’ll give it to you.”

 _Whoa_.

This is . . . too much. Getting paid six figures is enough for her, but to have the opportunity to ask for more? What would she even write down? And not only that, but Felicity’s a woman working in a predominately male career – getting paid less and fighting for more is the norm for her, much less for _every_ woman in any field. Having Ray give her a blank check is making her head spin with possibilities and impossibilities, and she doesn’t know how to react.

Noticing she hasn’t said a word or touched the paper, Ray looks at her inquisitively but they shine with curiosity. “I’ve never had a prospective employee ask for an unlimited amount, but I think we can get you close to that.”

She has to stop this meeting before it gets out of hand – _fast_ . She hasn’t had time to process his offer, but most of all, Felicity enjoys living in Chicago and likes her friends. She doesn’t know anyone in Star City and has never considered living there since it’s not as appealing as Chicago. Chicago is different – it’s unique and quaint enough not to be overwhelming, has good food everywhere she looks, and her closest friend _ever_ lives here. She’s created her own home in Chicago and she’s not prepared to let it go.

Gathering enough courage to turn his offer down, Felicity steadies herself to look at Ray in the eye. “Ray, this is too sudden. As much as I’m flattered at your offer, I enjoy living in Chicago and I like working with Kord Industries. I’m sorry but I have to decline.”

She can sense he’s disappointed – she would be too – but the only indication he gives is when his lips form a tiny frown. Her heart races as she may have effectively been put on Ray’s shit list, because she truly doesn’t want it to happen. Surprisingly, Felicity _likes_ Ray.

“I understand.” His attitude is a bit cooler now, but still manages to put on a smile. “The offer is always open. Palmer Tech will happily welcome you if you decide to join us.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Glad he’s not upset with her, Felicity quietly sighs in relief.

“You’re welcome.” As their waiter comes over to collect their plates, Ray relaxes in his chair and smiles warmly at Felicity. He’s back to being the Ray Palmer she met in the bathroom, not a businessman seeking out new talent. Her heart flutters in nervousness and a bit of excitement – she hasn’t felt this way in a long time.

“Although I hope this isn’t our last meeting together.”

And it seems like he may not the only one.

She laughs a little, because the absurdity of the situation has her in disbelief. Felicity’s made an ass out of herself twice now and declined his objectively generous offer, but nonetheless he still wants to get to know her better. Sometimes Felicity can’t really believe her luck.

“I . . . no, it won’t.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing you soon.”

Felicity nods in agreement, and when she glances up at Ray he’s grinning as if he’s won the lottery. She’s _definitely_ looking forward to meeting Ray again.

* * *

Oliver surfs away on his phone, checking the latest sports news and occasionally looking up information on people from his past life. He hates how so many of them have gone into serious fields and have made a name for themselves, while he sits here instructing Roy how to prolong pleasure for female clients. But this is his life now – he’ll have to make the best of it.

As of now Roy is giving cunnilingis to another escort, Harley, as she tells him where to apply pressure, when to back off and so on. It’s an art form Oliver wasn’t aware of in his pre-prostitute days, but since then he’s taken a deep appreciation for giving oral. The heady smell and the way women thrash beneath him gets his heart racing, because he’s got them wrapped around his finger – literally. It’s a powerful feeling.

Roy, however, doesn’t see it that way and keeps getting annoyed whenever he or Harley interrupt him. Not to mention, Roy’s extremely uncomfortable having a _very_ hands-on sex education in front of a bored Oliver, but he has to suck it up soon enough.

Glancing up from his phone, Oliver sees although Roy’s got Harley’s legs wrapped around his shoulders, his hands (aside from when they’re not stimulating Harley) are completely motionless and not providing any more pleasure. “Roy, if one hand is busy and the other isn’t, touch her anywhere on the body. Play with her tits, nipples, anything.”

Roy pulls back and groans, to which Harley protests loudly. “You two have been ordering me around for the past _twenty_ minutes. Twenty! I have a major hard on and my lips feel like they’ve been underwater for an hour. Can’t we stop? Or take a break?”

Oliver gives Harley _that_ look, then rolls his eyes at Roy. “How long does sex typically last for you?”

Roy stutters for a moment, but seeing that Oliver’s dead serious he swallows thickly. “Uh, about thirty?”

“You sure?”

There’s an anticipated pause as it’s obvious Roy is deciding between lying and telling the truth. Thankfully, he chooses to be a better person and mumbles, “It’s less.”

“How less?” Oliver asks as Harley observes their exchange with rapt attention, quiet as if she’s watching an intense thriller.

“Maybe . . . around six minutes. With maximum effort.” Roy sighs in defeat and sits on the floor, naked and exhausted from his hard work.

“Aw Puddin’, don’t get too upset,” Harley reassures him. She pushes herself up to lay on the opposite end of the bed, then lies down on her stomach as she places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.”

“Harley’s right.” Oliver checks the time on his phone and sees that he’s running behind for his job – his _legal_ one at Jitters. “Keep practicing and don’t be so mechanical about it. Having the power to make someone orgasm is a great feeling, Roy.”

“I second that,” Harley quips as she raises her hand like she’s in class.

Paying her no mind, Oliver walks over to Roy and tries to get him to realize sex isn’t _just_ sex – it’s a unique connection meant to test everyone’s limits. “Listen, the fun part of sex isn’t getting an orgasm and that’s it. It’s learning how to push one another, to pull out that primal, uninhibited part of someone which only comes out to play when it’s been seduced out of hiding.”    

Roy is quietly watching him, apprehensive but nonetheless a student eager to learn more secrets from the world of high-end prostitution. Oliver looks over at Harley and his eyes skim down her frame, making sure to touch upon every inch of skin. Harley takes this as an opportunity to prop an elbow and face Oliver, her glorious body beckoning him to come over.

His eyes scan over her tits, paying special attention to its natural curvature, and slowly go down to her navel. Harley shifts a little and the action causes him to see the wetness coating her inner thighs, her lips forming into a tiny smirk once she notices his reaction. Now _he’s_ getting turned on.

 _Minx_.

“People are lucky if they discover that part of themselves. Some never get a chance to experience it.” He gives one last look at Harley before tearing himself away from her and focusing on Roy. “But as an escort _you_ get to do it as a living, and people are willing to pay lots of money for it. Don’t forget that.”

Nodding slowly, Roy stands up and rubs his hands together as he looks Harley. “Round two?” he asks hopefully.

She squeals in delight and happily flips over on her back so Roy can get to work. “I thought you’d never ask!”

As the two get reacquainted, Oliver quietly gathers his items and heads for the door. He cracks a tiny smile when he hears them laugh, and for a moment he’s reminded of why being an escort isn’t such a bad thing.

* * *

It’s evening now and Felicity’s at Oliver’s apartment as he cooks food for them before they watch a movie. She’s busy opening up a wine bottle – red, of course – and loiters around the kitchen as Oliver pretends he’s in a five star restaurant. A long time ago Felicity made the mistake of helping Oliver out in the kitchen, which led to almost everything getting burnt. Suffice it to say she’s learned her lesson.

“What are we having tonight?” Felicity saunters over to him and sits on top of the counter, taking a bite of pita bread as she does so.

He smiles while he opens the oven. “Arab food.”

“You know Oliver, there are a lot of countries in the Middle East. You can’t generalize here.”

Oliver puts on oven mitts and proceeds to take out a pan of rice, instantly filling the entire apartment with its heavenly smell. “Can I be safe and say it’s Mediterranean food?”

She considers breaking to him that no, he can’t generalize once again and a lot of countries in the Middle East don’t even touch the Mediterranean Sea, but decides she doesn’t feel like giving a lecture in geography. “Sure. But try not to say that anywhere else.”

“Duly noted.”

“What exactly is on the menu?” There are several items all over the counter and it all looks positively delicious.

“Well, I cheated a bit and bought the hummus and pita bread, but I made rice, tabbouleh and beef kebabs.” He breaks apart one of the kebabs to see if it’s cooked, then puts the piece in his mouth. “Good thing I came home early.”

“No shit, Oliver.” She’s amazed by his efforts and can’t wait to try out this food. She’s not an adventurous eater, but as she’s become friends with Oliver he’s slowly introduced her to a wide variety of dishes. Felicity has to wonder if he even has time to relax when he makes so much food for her. “I feel like you put in way too much effort for a simple get together.”

Shrugging, Oliver takes out a bowl and promptly puts the rice inside it. “I enjoy it and I get a chance to learn how to make new dishes.” Glancing at her, Oliver winks and adds, “Don’t worry, I don’t do _everything_ for you.”

Rolling her eyes, Felicity takes a small piece of pita bread and throws it at Oliver. He laughs and resumes putting the rice inside the bowl. “I’m sure you could open up your own café or restaurant if you wanted to. You already have experience as a barista, you’re an awesome cook, _and_ you have the funds to get started without taking out a loan.”

Come to think of it, Felicity’s been wondering about this for a while now. There are times when she can tell Oliver would rather do anything else besides being a prostitute and occasionally working at Jitters – at least, that’s how she sees it. She’s certain he would make a successful café and create a delicious menu given how well he cooks.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, then shrugs as he gathers the rice bowl and puts it on the table. “I don’t know, I kind of like working at Jitters.”

“Really? I thought you hated your boss and think customers are annoying.”

Leaning against the table Oliver looks at Felicity, albeit a little annoyed. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean I’m going to drop everything and open a business. Sixty percent of new businesses fail in the first year.”

Felicity stops short of listing off statistics that prove his comment false once she sees Oliver glaring at her, his narrowed eyes telling her to stop pushing this topic. Perhaps it’s best she keeps quiet for now.

“Right. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.”

It’s awkward for a minute --. she didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable but Oliver’s such a talented, smart man. He’s young and has his whole life ahead of him and yet he’s dedicated so much time to being an escort. Granted, Felicity doesn’t know the circumstances behind his decision to become a prostitute, but all she wants is the best for Oliver. If he could see the good work he could do as a business owner, then he wouldn’t feel the need to continue being an escort.

Eager to change topics, Felicity decides to bring up her lunch meeting with Ray. After the conversation she had with Ray, she wasn’t able to concentrate on work for the rest of the day. She’s been aching to tell someone about her meeting and his crazy job offer, and Oliver’s the perfect person to discuss this with. She’s positive he’ll be ecstatic for her.

“On another note, I met someone today. Someone big.”

Oliver doesn’t look up as he continues to put the kebabs on another platter. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“The CEO of Palmer Tech, Ray Palmer.”

She’s about to tell him more about her meeting with Ray, but immediately notices how he’s stilled all other movements and stares at the wall with a single mindedness which surprises her. His back is ridged and she swears she can see his arm muscles twitch. Does Oliver _know_ Ray?

The thought confuses her because, as far as she knows, Oliver’s never been exposed to the business world before. Unless Oliver met Ray at some orgy house party, the chances of those two knowing each are slim to none. Then again, Felicity doesn’t know much about Oliver, and for all she knows they could have been best friends.

It’s a solid ten seconds before Oliver’s shoulders relax and he finally looks at her. Something’s off and Felicity’s beyond curious to know why Oliver’s acting this way. Venturing further, Felicity throws out, “He . . . offered me a job. I met him first at the gala, though.”

She _meant_ to tell Oliver she met Ray at the gala when he came to pick up the necklace on Saturday, but she hesitated to tell him about her encounter. Felicity’s pretty certain it would’ve been weird if she brought up Ray. Well, it would’ve made Felicity uncomfortable – she doesn’t know if they’re at a stage where they can discuss liking other people. Felicity’s not _in_ love with Oliver but for such a long time it’s been _them_.  What’s going to happen to their friendship if someone else is thrown into the mix?

“You met him at the gala?” Oliver’s quiet and his eyes burn with intensity she’s never seen before. A couple seconds later, Oliver goes back to putting food in its respective dishes, and he refuses to look at her. His movements are fast and he practically throws the food in the bowls, not caring if small specs fly out.

The sight is confusing her and she wonders if mentioning  Ray might have been a major mistake. At least she knows telling Oliver she likes Ray is officially off the table, but she’s dying to know the real reason why Oliver’s acting this way. Unfortunately, she can’t ask him point blank. It appears Felicity will have to conduct an investigation the old fashioned way: with plenty of patience and luck.

Taking a sip of her wine, Felicity nods and says, “Yep. He, um, was crashing it.” She smiles fondly at the memory. “Then he called me today for a lunch meeting.”

Still refusing to look at her, Oliver continues to put the kebabs in a plate and doesn’t utter a word. At this point Felicity is willing to say anything to get his attention, but his hatred for Ray must be extremely strong. Regardless, she pushes forward with her story and waits to see what Oliver’s response will be.

“So anyway, he took me out to David Burke’s –”

“Wow. Fancy,” Oliver deadpans. He pays Felicity no mind when he places the tabbouleh and kebabs on the table and busies himself by fiddling with plates and utensils. At this point, Felicity’s getting the feeling he’s not interested in hearing about how he offered her a job, but she’s annoyed Oliver’s not pushing whatever feelings of animosity he has about Ray to at least _pretend_ he’s excited for her.

Hurt he’s being moody, Felicity purses her lips and keeps quiet. His demeanor might be a combination of a long day’s work and his apparent dislike of Ray, but she is frustrated that he can’t put his feelings aside for a moment. Her meeting with Ray is a big deal and he’s downplaying it as much as he can.

But suddenly, Oliver surprises her when he guiltily looks at her and sighs deeply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be . . .” Glancing down at the floor, Oliver shakes his head and attempts to get rid of his poisonous thoughts. “It’s been a long day, that’s all.”

Relief washes over her – Felicity hadn't realized how wound up she was until he apologized. Oliver's smiling now and she forgives him for his off-putting behavior. Even though she _is_ curious why Oliver looked ready to kill at the mention of Ray, it's none of her business.“That’s okay. I know I talk a lot –”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. I’d rather you talk about work and meetings with CEOs than talk about my day.”

Feeling significantly better, she decides to tell her about Ray’s offer. “Um, okay.” She laughs a little then says, “He actually offered me a job. He said I could have any position I wanted, which is  really crazy if you ask me.”

Glancing up at Oliver, she expects to see a sincere smile but instead he’s staring at her carefully but his eyes are cold and distant. Felicity’s heart thumps loudly beneath her chest – Oliver’s reactions are all over the place tonight and she can't keep track. One minute he’s cheerfully making delicious food for their weekly hangout, the next he can’t even pretend to be curious regarding her meeting with Ray and now it looks like he’s shut off completely.

If she didn’t know any better, he’s acting _jealous_ and this realization has her mind spinning in circles. What does he have to be jealous about? That she’s a successful career woman getting a prestigious job offer from Ray Palmer himself? A low simmering fire begins to grow in the pit of her stomach, and Felicity’s having a hard time keeping her emotions in check. This is ridiculous – Felicity’s worked tooth and nail to get to where she’s at, and fully intends to continue climbing up the ranks. It’s not her fault Oliver refuses to even consider leaving prostitution.

“That’s cool.” Oliver gives her a half-hearted smile and takes the remaining dishes to the table. Quiet, Felicity takes a generous swing from her wine glass, and waits to see if Oliver will offer an explanation for his odd behavior.

Pulling out a chair for her, he beckons Felicity over as a way to end the conversation. “We should start eating before the food gets cold.”

She considers asking him why he’s acting this way (clearly work isn’t bothering him as much as Ray Palmer is), but decides she needs to know when to pick her battles. Felicity believes Oliver will eventually tell her whatever is going on with him, and until then she doesn’t think probing him for an answer will help the situation.

Naturally, Felicity’s hurt he’s jealous and disappointed Oliver’s proven to be a typical man unaccustomed to an accomplished woman, but she’s no stranger to men feeling inferior in her presence. Felicity understands being an escort isn’t the greatest job in the world – especially if someone wants to make a living legally – but if Oliver refuses to do something about it then it’s not her problem. He shouldn’t take out his frustrations on her.

Maybe Oliver will realize his feelings are silly and there’s no reason to be jealous, especially given the fact Felicity will support him no matter what he decides to do. Until then, she’ll have to keep her accomplishments to herself, even though Oliver’s supposed to be her _friend_ , not someone she has to compete against.

 _This is not what I signed up for_. Felicity pushes those thoughts aside because this hangout was meant to be fun, not tainted with angry and jealous feelings. Even though she wants to get to the bottom of this mystery and see what’s going on in Oliver’s mind, she also wants to hold onto this seemingly fragile friendship and not ruin their time together, rare as it is these days.  

But soon enough, she’ll find out what was really bothering him, and he won’t be able to use work as a flimsy excuse.

* * *

They’re halfway into the movie, perched on the opposite ends of the couch and not really acknowledging each other. Dinner was all right save for Felicity’s cool attitude and many awkward silences. She drank a bit more than usual, but stopped as soon as the movie started.

It’s his fault she’s acting this way and he curses himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. When Felicity mentioned Ray Palmer, Oliver wanted to go on a murderous rampage and did everything he could from tearing his apartment into pieces. Oliver’s never officially met Ray, but when Queen Consolidated went bankrupt Palmer Tech bought QC. During the buyout, Ray spent no time distancing himself from Moira and the entire Queen family, and constantly reminded the media he was a “better alternative” to pro-establishment CEOs who ruined the lives of the less fortunate. At the time his comments enraged Oliver, because his father and mother worked tirelessly to aid the poor, and Ray didn’t know what he was talking about.

Ray continued to slander the Queen family, telling the masses Robert Queen ruined the Glades in Star City by shutting down QC’s factory and shipping it overseas. But he didn’t know the reason _why_ Robert did it – QC had to conserve money and shipping factory work was the only way. Increasing profits and cutting costs meant getting rid of workers and factories which ate up too much money. It’s Business 101. Oliver was certain Palmer Tech was going to destroy itself by bringing a few factories back into the States, paying its workers double – and sometimes triple – the minimum wage, and by spending too much on Palmer’s philanthropic ventures.

Yet, when the first year ended, Palmer Tech had its most profitable year _ever_ , and QC was wiped away from existence. It didn’t help as Oliver lost his home, life savings and his mother, Ray Palmer got to sit on a throne built by his mother and father’s blood, sweat and tears. It made Oliver beyond angry – how dare Ray get to reap the benefits of his family’s hard work? Ray was an outsider who didn’t deserve it.

As Oliver began to apply for jobs, several of his father’s acquaintances turned a cold shoulder at Robert Queen’s son, opting to kiss Ray Palmer’s ass any chance they had. Pretty soon Oliver had to decide between begging on his knees or going home with no job, to which Oliver chose to tuck his tail between his legs and move somewhere else. That’s when he came to Chicago looking for a fresh start, only to stumble into prostitution. And, well, the rest is history.

Needless to say Oliver is jealous and resentful towards Ray Palmer. _Oliver_ was supposed to be CEO of Queen Consolidated, not some nerd who was into hippie-Millennial bullshit. Although Oliver had taken advantage of his wealth and never bothered to learn the ins and outs of QC when he had the chance, he would do anything to go back and focus on becoming the CEO his father hoped he would be. At this point, Oliver would even consider going back to school and getting a business degree if it meant he could be taken seriously in the business world.

Add to the fact that Felicity is an accomplished woman rising up the ranks, and possibly getting a job in Star City which might put her in the same room with people who grew up with him, it makes Oliver feel like a failure. He wants Felicity to become something amazing – hell, even CEO herself – but he can’t stop himself from feeling like a disappointment. Watching Felicity succeed in her work life only shows Oliver how far behind he is.

Sometimes he has to wonder what she sees in him, and there are times when Oliver’s convinced Felicity is his friend because she pities him.  

Regardless, Oliver should’ve kept his emotions in check when Felicity was excitedly telling him about her meeting with Ray. She’s been trying so hard to get noticed by the executive officers, and even if she didn’t meet the CEO of Kord Industries, Ray Palmer is a good alternative. His sour mood ruined the entire moment and he feels like shit.

Tearing his eyes away from the movie, Oliver glances over at Felicity and sees her lips pressed in a tight line, her eyes distant and uninterested in the movie. Sighing, Oliver lightly touches Felicity to get her attention. Reluctantly, she looks over at him as her lips have slowly begun to form a frown.

Shit, he made her _really_ angry.

“Listen Felicity . . . I’m sorry. About how I was acting. Earlier.”

Apologizing is _not_ his strong suit, but Felicity matters to him and he doesn’t want her upset with him. She’s looking at him a little too nonchalantly, but Oliver can tell her interest has peaked.

“I didn’t realize apologizing was physically painful for you to do.”

He flinches at her harsh words, but she has every reason to be that way. “When you mentioned Ray offering you a place in Star City . . . it just made me realize how much I’ve come to rely on you. On our friendship.”

Felicity’s whole demeanor softens, and for a brief moment Oliver debates whether to tell her his feelings about Ray. However, he would have to spill the whole truth to Felicity in order to do so and he’s not ready for that. And besides, what he said _is_ the truth – he can’t fathom what it would be like not having Felicity near him. She’s everything to him.

“But no matter what you decide to do I will always support you. I hope you know that.”

Oliver lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, while his heart beats rapidly as he waits for Felicity’s reply. As the seconds pass, Oliver thinks about all the ways Felicity’s presence has made him a better person. Before meeting Felicity, he was in a state of constant fog and with her in his life he has something to look forward to. She makes him smile and wish for a better life, and that’s all he can ask for at this point.

And he’s _definitely_ not ready for her to leave him.

She nods in response and smiles slightly to let him know she forgives him. Glad things have turned for the better, Oliver goes back to watching the movie as Felicity settles on the couch to get more comfortable. Sneaking a peek over at Felicity, he’s struck with a moment of intense happiness and vows to never to say anything to jeopardize their friendship ever again.

  
Except it’s easier said than done.   


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
> 
> Again, many thanks to @curvy-tam and @the-mimi-hiddleston for beta-ing and cheering me on! And I always have to thank srmiller for making this story a thousand times better!

“Excuse me, but I didn’t order this.”

Oliver does his very best to not roll his eyes in front of the lady and manages to maintain a neutral façade when he looks at her. “What did you originally order?”

“I ordered a mocha latte.” The woman is clearly annoyed a lowly employee ruined her pitiful day with a wrong order, and Oliver grits his teeth to prevent him from biting back at her. Customers can be _so_ rude.

Sighing quietly, Oliver doesn’t even bother asking her for the receipt because he’s in no mood to dispute her claim. Today’s been a busy Sunday and he’s only had a small break during his shift, so he’s not in the mindset to prove the customer wrong.

“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll get you the mocha latte, okay?”

The woman seems a little shocked by his niceness, but she nods silently and patiently waits by the corner. Glad he avoided a potential disaster, Oliver starts working on her latte and dodges his fellow co-workers. As he goes to place a cup under the machine, another employee stops by his station and greets, “Hey, Oliver. How are you?”

The person in question is Iris, a student getting her Master’s in journalism at Northwestern University. She’s a smart, talented and gorgeous woman, and they’ve flirted _a lot_ during their time at Jitters. They’ve never gone on a date or hooked up since Oliver has a strict no-dating policy (it doesn’t really apply to Felicity although it probably should), but it’s always nice to talk to Iris and have shifts with her. They work well together and she makes his difficult shifts a little more bearable.

Oliver smiles at her. “Hey Iris. I’m good, what about you?”

She rolls her eyes as she ties her apron around her waist. “Oh you know, excited for work and all.”

Grinning knowingly, Oliver goes back to preparing the latte when Iris asks, “By the way, what happened to your friend? I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

Now _that_ stops Oliver in his tracks.

Today is the third Sunday Felicity has cancelled on their coffee hangout. Typically he wouldn’t mind but she also cancelled on their Wednesday movie nights, and he’s starting to think maybe Felicity doesn’t enjoy his company as much as she’s led him to believe. He can’t resent her for wanting to take a break from him – they’ve hung out plenty of times, and it’s always healthy to spend a couple of weeks away. They text constantly and Snapchat each other, but nonetheless he misses her like crazy. The selfish part of him is hoping Felicity hasn’t found a friend to replace him, but perhaps in the meantime he should get new friends instead of relying on Felicity.

Facing Iris, Oliver tries to pretend Felicity’s absence hasn’t made him lonelier than usual. “She’s been busy with work. But we still see each other.”

Giving him an odd look, Iris simply shrugs and gets started on work. For some reason Oliver can’t help the need to defend Felicity’s absence, and stops short of yelling across the counter that Felicity hasn’t abandoned him.

At least not yet.

* * *

The weather has significantly improved in the past few weeks, but Felicity knows it could change in a moment’s notice. It seems like everyone else in the city has the same idea since every street and park is filled with people soaking in the sun. Normally Felicity gets irritated when so many people are out at the same time, but today she’s feeling different.

Well, it’s probably because she’s spending this fine Sunday afternoon with Ray and he’s wonderful company.

They’ve spent the past forty-five minutes discussing various topics, ranging from work to geeking about the latest quad-band circuitry to hit the market. Felicity hasn’t laughed and flirted – if by flirting it means she spends a solid five minutes talking about the latest tech and not giving Ray a chance to talk – like this in so long, but it feels amazing to be in this kind of mood. The more they talk the more they realize how similar they are. After spending years not finding someone to talk about this stuff with her, Felicity feels right at home with Ray.

Typically, her Sundays are reserved for her hangout with Oliver at Jitters, but Ray was only available to meet this Sunday and, well, Felicity couldn’t refuse. She hopes Oliver doesn’t hate her for cancelling today… and the past three Sundays.

The first Sunday Felicity was coming back from Central City, which was almost a five-hour drive, so naturally she couldn’t make it to Jitters. The next Sunday, Caitlin had begged her to go to a free yoga event at Navy Pier and to get brunch afterwards. And today, Ray was only available this afternoon so Felicity decided to cancel on Oliver since she sees him on Wednesdays anyway.

_Except_ she’s cancelled on their movie nights for the past three weeks as well, and at this point Felicity’s convinced Oliver hates her.

She didn’t _mean_ to do it. Work has gotten crazier and she’s had to stay till after nine some nights. She also went out for an early dinner a couple times with her coworkers – she’s just as surprised that they asked her – and promptly went home to sleep. They’ve texted and such but Felicity doesn’t doubt Oliver thinks she’s avoiding him. There’s nothing he can do to make her avoid him, but she has to admit, they _frequently_ hang out and there’s a small part of her needing a break from it.

Felicity’s not blind – she can tell Oliver has little to no friends and obviously likes to surround himself with work. She’s no stranger to the feeling, but over the years she’s made an effort to branch out and be less of a hermit. Although they both work long and odd hours, Felicity tries to make time with Caitlin and a few other coworkers, and has her own (illegal) hobbies she spends her free time doing. As far as Felicity knows, Oliver doesn’t do much aside from work and hanging out with her.

Then again, she can’t speculate on something she knows very little about. Although she and Oliver have become close, there are many things she doesn’t know about him. Granted, Felicity doesn’t plan on spilling her darkest secrets to him in the near future nor does she expect Oliver to do the same, but their conversations have reached a standstill. It’s always about work, movies, funny memes and repeated conversations.

She doesn’t know if Oliver has siblings, why he got into prostitution, or if his parents are alive and know of his whereabouts. Felicity has told Oliver she’s originally from Las Vegas, grew up poor, had an absent father and was raised by a single mother, but that’s as far as her reveal went. Sometimes they talk about politics, and from Oliver’s comments she can tell he holds fiscally conservative values. He’s never mentioned going to college or high school, let alone tell her where he grew up.

Overall, Felicity only knows the bare bones about Oliver and it appears he wants to keep it that way. She has to wonder what kind of friendship they have if they show a carefully constructed version of who they are. There are times when Felicity wants to confide in him but fears he’ll run away the moment she shows just how vulnerable she is. She’s already had one person abandon her – she can’t risk it happening again.

Pretty soon she’s going to have to evaluate her friendship with Oliver and be honest with him. She can’t continue walking on eggshells around him, and if she feels she can’t be comfortable with Oliver then perhaps this friendship isn’t worth pursuing.

But she’s getting ahead of herself – if anything, she needs to allow Oliver an opportunity to open up to her. He deserves it. And if Oliver feels he wants to be mutual friends instead of true friends, _then_ she’ll decide if he’s worth spending so much time on. The thought makes her chest physically ache, but if it’s what she has to do then that’s what she’ll do. She’s put other people’s emotional well being over her own far too many times in her life and she’s promised herself she won’t do it again.

Pushing those thoughts to the side, Felicity and Ray stop in front of a bench to sit down, taking in the sights at Lincoln Park. Once she sits, Felicity realizes how tired her feet are and tries to hide her discomfort in front of Ray. It’s her fault for wearing wedges with a frilly blue dress, but she’s not going to let her foot pain ruin the moment.

Glancing over at Ray, she has to do everything she can to prevent herself from drooling in front of him. He looks like a Ralph Lauren model – the perfect incarnation of an American stud. His light blue collared shirt accentuates his impressive frame, and his rolled up sleeves only add to his model-worthy appearance. Topped with aviator sunglasses and shoes suited for a captain of the rowing team, Ray looks as if he owns all of Chicago and then some. If she were an onlooker she would definitely be ogling at Ray, but luckily for Felicity, she has front row tickets to Ray Palmer’s stupidly handsome self.

It’s quiet for a moment as they soak in the warm air and peek over the trees to catch a glimpse of Lake Michigan in its spring glory. Settling on the bench, Felicity glances over at Ray and asks, “So . . . are you ready to move to Star City?”

He seems a little taken aback by her question but it’s been weighing on her mind. She can tell there’s something between them, but since he’s moving in a few months, Felicity has to wonder if it’s worth getting attached to Ray.

“I think so.” He looks at the spectacle in front of him before turning his attention to Felicity. “I’ve been in Chicago for too long. It’s time for a change.”

“Why did you decide to move Palmer Tech’s headquarters?”

Taking a deep breath, Ray rubs his palms against his thighs. “Star City’s become more of a tech haven in the past fifteen years, and I think it would benefit the company to be situated in a city known for its creativity.”

She nods in acknowledgement – Star City is home to several companies, mainly tech giants and startups. Palmer Tech has become an innovative company always searching for the next best thing, and Chicago doesn’t offer much of that.

“And I’m not really a fan of Chicago politics. It seems politicians care more about getting reelected than fixing up the city.” His eyes hardening, Ray clenches his jaw and adds, “People deserve to have someone looking out for them instead of taking advantage of their situation.”

Felicity can see why Ray’s upset with Chicago politics. He’s done a lot for this city and has started several programs to help the poor, but there seems to be a roadblock no matter what he does. Ray’s started off with a lot of support from local politicians and the mayor, but when he became critical of them (especially during the teacher’s union strike) they dropped their support and did little to help him. Fortunately, he has a lot of money to get programs started, but the politicians have done everything they can to prevent him from doing anything without their permission.

Knowing how passionate he is and how much he wants to help the city only causes her crush on him to intensify. She needs to relax and take this one step at a time, but Ray makes it _so_ hard.

“I can’t argue with you there. I wish the media reported on it more often.”

Scoffing, Ray rolls his eyes and props an arm on the bench. “The media is owned by politicians. The brave souls who try to do something get ostracized, so at this point no one bothers to say anything.”

Felicity doesn’t know what to say because she’s not entirely invested in politics, and she’s positive if she opens her mouth she’ll say something totally wrong.

Instead she asks, “What are you going to do with the employees already working here?”

Truthfully, she’s been wondering about this for a while now. Shutting down his office will definitely leave some people out of work, and for someone whose sole focus is on giving everyone jobs, it wouldn’t be nice of him to completely leave his Chicago employees in the dust.

“Good question. All the main employees are going to move to Star City, but we’ll still keep the Chicago office as we expand more on manufacturing. I’m also trying to get a new manufacturing plant opened up here, but _your_ CEO doesn’t want my plant to be in the same area as his.” Sighing, he takes off his sunglasses and says earnestly, “Being a CEO is hard work.”

Laughing, Felicity tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear and smiles at him. Even though she is enjoying his company – immensely – she’s got her detective cap on and needs to know one more thing: does Ray know Oliver?

Felicity wants to kick herself in the face for wanting to ruin her unofficial whatever this is with Ray by bringing Oliver up, but she’s dying to know the truth. Even though Oliver admitted to not wanting Felicity to move, she doesn’t necessarily buy his explanation, at least not entirely.

Something’s missing and she intends to find out.

“So I know a guy who said he knows you, actually.”

“Oh?” Ray seems genuinely interested and she feels bad for lying. “What’s his name?”

“O-Oliver. The one and only.” Her heartbeat quickens in anticipation, her mouth going dry as her mind lists a thousand reasons why this might be a bad thing.

Ray’s eyebrows furrow adorably and he shakes his head. “Hmm, I don’t think I know an Oliver. What’s his last name?”

She’s about to say his last name when Felicity suddenly remembers he’s never mentioned it to her nor did she ever ask. A lump begins to form in her throat once Felicity realizes this is kind of a big deal, and her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach. Despite considering Oliver to be a close friend of hers, Felicity doesn’t even know his _last_ _name_. How pathetic is that?

Trying not to make herself look like a fool, Felicity waves off his question. “I think he was pretending to know you. Never mind.”

“Ah, that’s okay. It happens.” In an effort to change the subject Ray winks at her, but it does absolutely nothing to quell her stomach from turning over and over.  

She should’ve listened to herself – mentioning Oliver _was_ going to ruin the mood. And it totally did.

* * *

After another two hours of hell, Oliver _finally_ got permission to leave work. He has an appointment in less than an hour, but he’s bone tired and doesn’t think he’ll be able to perform. Here’s to hoping his client has a weird fetish and would like to watch Oliver sleep instead.

Once he gathers his items from his locker in the backroom, Oliver’s phone buzzes from a text sent by Felicity. He considers ignoring it but his curiosity gets the better of him. Opening the text, Oliver sits down on one of the chairs as he takes a breather.

_Hey sorry for cancelling. My friend wasn’t available until today & its been awhile since Ive seen them. Can I make it up to u tonight? _

Oliver immediately starts typing out a “Yes” but stops short of sending it when he realizes how desperate he is to hang out with Felicity. He literally can’t go another day of not seeing her. If that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is. Besides, his petty side is begging him to make Felicity sweat it out, or worse, cancel on her completely. _That’ll send her a message._

**Sorry felicity I have a appt & jitters was insane. We can hang out on wednesday**

He instantly regrets sending the message but the damage is done. It almost feels like he told his mom to fuck off (something he did quite often, unfortunately). Taking a deep breath, Oliver stands up and exits the room, but stops by the counter to say goodbye to his coworkers.

“Bye guys.” Everyone grunts in response and ignores him, but Oliver doesn’t blame them.

Shrugging it off, Oliver starts to head out the door when Iris sings, “Bye Oliver!” She saunters over him with a tray on her hip and smiles brightly, causing Oliver to grin back.

“Bye Iris.” As he’s about to leave, he stops in his tracks and gets a sudden urge to do something he’s never done before.

“Hey, are you free after your shift?”

Realizing it sounds like he’s asking her out, Oliver clarifies, “I wasn’t able to go to the new sushi place over by Clark and Fullerton with everyone last week…”

She catches his double meaning but it looks like she hadn’t intended Oliver’s question as a potential date in the first place. “Oh right! I wasn’t able to go either. Yeah, we should definitely check it out!” Frowning, Iris looks over her shoulder to see if their boss isn’t nearby. “My shift from hell isn’t over until 7:30, but after that I’m free.”

“Oh, okay. Great. Cool.”

He didn’t think she would actually _say_ yes, and the realization that he’s going to dinner with a semi-friend hits him without warning. Dinner after 7:30 gives him plenty of time to meet his client, shower and relax. Oliver doesn’t know how to react to this new development but his excitement is slowly growing.

“Awesome. See you there at eight?”

“Yep.”

Iris smiles once more as she slowly walks away. “Okay. Bye, Oliver.”

“See you later, Iris.” Waving at her, Oliver waits until she turns around before leaving. Once he’s outside, Oliver basks under the sunlight and takes a moment to appreciate the fine day. Grabbing dinner with Iris is a change from his regular schedule, but a welcome one nonetheless.

It feels good.

* * *

Monday has rolled around, much to everyone's chagrin, and unfortunately Oliver’s got a strict and packed schedule to follow today. He’s already met with Isabel but before he goes out to his appointments, he wants to check up on Roy to see how he’s doing.

It’s been awhile since he’s seen the guy, and although Oliver texts him every couple of days, he feels a certain protectiveness toward Roy. Oliver’s no stranger to playing the older sibling and he wants to make sure Roy’s safe. Being a prostitute isn’t the most glamorous – or safe – occupation, but escorts always look out for one another. Roy’s a young man who needs all the help he can get.

Oliver got Roy’s information from Isabel – unwillingly, of course – and as he walks up to his apartment building, Oliver feels a sense of dread overcoming him. Roy lives in the bad side of town since he’s a newer escort and not getting paid as much as Oliver. Oliver knows in a few months Roy will be making enough to move out of here, but the area isn’t safe and he doesn’t want Roy to be living here.

As he steps onto the porch, he searches for Roy’s name but notices all the buttons are broken. Oliver could call him but he doesn’t want to give Roy an opportunity to hide anything (namely drugs and alcohol). Sighing, Oliver pulls on the main door expecting it to be locked, but luckily for him it isn’t.

He’s immediately hit with a whiff of smoke and food mixed in with loud music. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Oliver climbs up the stairs and finally reaches Roy’s apartment. He can’t hear anything, but Isabel had told him Roy didn’t have an appointment this morning so he had to be here.

Knocking on the door, he waits a good five seconds before peeking through the eyehole. Even though Oliver can’t see anything, he hears some shuffling going on. Oliver loudly knocks again to catch Roy’s attention, and hopes Roy isn’t trying to throw evidence of excessive partying away.

The door suddenly opens but only big enough so that Oliver can see one half of Roy’s face. However, he can tell Roy’s eyes are bloodshot and the smell of alcohol, sex and drugs lingers in the air.

“Hey, Oliver. What’s up?” As Roy yawns, Oliver can feel his grip on the door handle loosen, so Oliver immediately takes the opportunity to push past the door.

“What the –”

Roy fights him as much as he can but his hangover already puts him at a disadvantage. In no time, Oliver pushes past Roy and swiftly walks into the apartment, his eyes immediately watering up from the strong smell of weed.

Scanning his apartment, Oliver takes note of the multitude of beer bottles lined up on his counter, food littered all over the tables and floor, and a girl sprawled on the couch. His blood boiling and ignoring Roy’s protests, he steps further inside and spots Roy’s bedroom. There’s a half naked man lying on his bed and if Oliver took a moment to inspect Roy’s room, he would find a bag of weed and other drugs all over.

“What the fuck is this?”

Oliver’s voice wavers in anger and he does everything in his power to prevent himself from blowing up on Roy. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Roy was supposed to start saving and discipline himself, not get involved in parties, sex and drugs. Oliver fucking warned him to stay away from this stuff and Roy ignored his advice. How could he do this? Oliver’s no stranger to an extravagant lifestyle filled with booze, money, girls and drugs. It got him nowhere. Seeing what Roy’s done with himself brings up a flood of emotions and memories he doesn’t want to think about, but most of all, he’s beyond disappointed in Roy.

Roy’s not supposed to be Oliver. He’s supposed to be someone better.

“Look Oliver, I was just having some fun. You know . . . “ Roy shrugs and sheepishly walks forward to pat Oliver’s back, but Oliver steps away because he’s in no mood for a pat on the back.

Roy’s clearly offended by Oliver’s action, but he really doesn’t give a shit. “Get rid of your girlfriend and boyfriend, clean this place up and take a shower.”

“Hey, you don’t get to –”

“Yes I fucking do.” Oliver’s seething – he wants to shake Roy’s shoulder and yell in his face for being so irresponsible, but Oliver remembers at one point he was also in Roy’s position. Lecturing Roy would make Oliver a hypocrite, and he doesn’t want to yell at the poor boy. He knows from first-hand experience it wouldn’t help, and would only cause Roy to continue his bad habits out of spite.

“Listen, you’re my responsibility.”

Snorting, Roy walks past Oliver and picks up a couple of empty beer bottles. “You’re not my dad – or the dad I never had – okay? I don’t need you to control me.”

Gritting his teeth, Oliver takes a couple of deep breaths in order to calm himself. “This isn’t about controlling you, Roy. You have no one here, do you understand?”

“I _know_ that.” Rolling his eyes, Roy starts walking to the kitchen but Oliver follows him and grabs onto his arm tightly. Roy struggles with him for a minute, but Oliver keeps a steady hand.

“No, I don’t think you do. No one’s going to check up on you. No one is going to call you and ask about your day.” He can feel his skin heating up in adrenaline and a flurry of emotions, his voice slightly wavering. Roy looks positively scared, and his eyes widen the longer Oliver’s hand tightens its hold on Roy’s arm.

“You’re alone. No one cares. Isabel only cares how much money you make. You’re just a name and number in the system. So when I tell you to do something,” Oliver sneers as he steps closer towards Roy, “you do it because no one else cares enough to tell you to.”

They’re at a standstill – Oliver towers over him as Roy looks like he’s either going to punch Oliver in the face or cry in his arms. As seconds pass, Oliver slowly loosens his grip on Roy’s arm but he doesn’t fail to notice his own hand shaking as he does so. Even though this speech was for Roy, Oliver wishes someone could’ve said this to him when he needed to hear it. Not for lack of trying, his parents constantly warned him against excessive partying and frivolously throwing his money away. If only he’d been given a tougher punishment than a slap on the wrist, he probably wouldn’t be in the situation where he is now.

After what seems like an eternity has passed, Roy nods and looks down at the ground in shame. “Okay,” Roy mumbles. “I get it.”

“Good.” Clearing his throat, Oliver straightens his back and orders, “Now take a shower and get ready for work. I’ll . . . clean up as best as I can.”

Nodding once more, Roy walks past him and heads straight to the tiny bathroom, leaving Oliver alone with his thoughts and wobbly legs. He shouldn’t have been that harsh on Roy, but he needed to snap out of it. Oliver’s all too aware of what happens when drinking, partying and drugs get out of control, and he doesn’t want to see Roy fall into the same trap. If Roy gets fired from Emerald, there’s no telling what kind of job he’ll have next, and the thought alone causes Oliver to shiver.

Taking a deep breath, he checks the time on his phone and he sees that he’s running behind on his first appointment. Glancing around the messy apartment, Oliver decides to start cleaning up a bit before he has to leave. Once he enters the living room, Oliver starts gathering bottles and notices the girl – who was sleeping when he first walked in – intently watching him. She’s got no shirt on, her makeup is smeared all over her face and she looks like she has a massive hangover.

“That was intense,” she comments, her voice cracking from a wild night of partying and two hours of sleep.

Glancing over to the bathroom then back at the messy living room, Oliver sighs and shakes his head.

“Yeah.”

* * *

Monday has come and gone, and Felicity is once again dreading this workweek. On the upside, Caitlin is at the office today after being gone last week, so now Felicity has someone to chat with during the day. Currently they’re at Potbelly’s for a quick lunch since there’s a lot of work to be done back at the office, and Felicity’s soul aches knowing she won’t have an hour to spend on lunch today.

Unfortunately, Felicity’s been behind on her work is due to constantly texting Ray during the day which, of course, she doesn’t mind, but it’s distracting her from concentrating on her Big Girl Job and she can’t have that. It doesn’t help that Ray’s extremely charming and he keeps giving her information on the latest tech that has yet to be public. He’s made her weak in the knees, and although Felicity does enjoy having a crush, she has to remind herself to put Felicity Meghan Smoak above everyone else.

Still, it _is_ nice to be complimented and flirted at.

Right now she’s in the middle of responding to Ray’s text asking her professional opinion on a not-so-secret project, but she jokingly responds that he’ll need to pay for her services. Smiling down at her phone, Felicity puts the phone back in her purse even though it’s hurting her soul to do it, but she _does_ have manners and Caitlin deserves better.

“Who’s the new boyfriend?”

Felicity almost chokes on her own spit. “Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rolling her eyes, Caitlin smirks knowingly and points to her purse. “You’ve been glued to that thing ever since we got here, _and_ I’ve caught you on your phone every time I’ve come to your office. Also, I’m a scientist – I’m _paid_ to observe my surroundings.”

Felicity’s got to admit, Caitlin’s not wrong on this one.  She wanted to tell Caitlin about Ray, but it’s so early in the game and Felicity’s positive pursuing a relationship with Ray isn’t good for her career. There are so many people wanting Felicity to make one small mistake, and if they ever find out the CEO of Kord Industries’ rival is sweet on her, it could get her fired. However, she and Ray aren’t even dating, so there’s no reason to tell anyone about this since nothing is happening – at least not yet.

Regardless, Caitlin is a friend and as she astutely pointed out, _something_ is going on and Felicity can’t avoid this any longer.  

“Fine. It’s . . . well, you know how I got invited to attend the gala?”

Caitlin nods. “You said it wasn’t special.”

“Right – I mean it totally wasn’t but I met Ray Palmer there. And we kind of . . . clicked. And then he offered me a job.”

“Whoa Felicity, hold on a second.” Confused by the outpour of information, Caitlin leans forward and looks straight at Felicity. “You met _Ray Palmer_ at a Kord Industries’ gala?”

“Yeah. He was crashing the party. I caught him in the act. In the girl’s bathroom.”

_Damn it_. She didn’t mean for it to sound so lewd, and she definitely meant to omit that piece of information, but after keeping this secret for so long it’s all tumbling forward with nothing stopping her.  

Pressing a hand on her forehead, Caitlin sternly orders, “Felicity, I’m going to need you to explain every little detail from the beginning. And _don’t_ leave anything out.”

It takes Felicity a few minutes to tell everything, but Caitlin’s a good listener and only interrupts her when she needs some clarification. Once she’s done, Felicity feels the huge weight of her shoulder disappear, something she hadn’t realized was there. After the most recent movie night with Oliver, she felt like she couldn’t tell him about her burgeoning romance with Ray. It’s always good to have someone like Caitlin to talk about these things.

“Felicity I’m speechless.” Caitlin takes a sip of her drink then adds, “But aren’t you worried about our coworkers finding out?”

Sighing, Felicity groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I know, Caitlin. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, and if anyone finds out… ”

Although she’s only been out with Ray once she did have a very public lunch meeting, and for all she knows someone from Kord Industries could’ve seen her. Hell, someone could’ve seen them at Lincoln Park. There’s a part of her ashamed for letting a guy get to her because Felicity’s smarter than that. Perhaps she was so determined to rid her mind of Oli –

Never mind.

Shaking her head, Felicity toys with her napkin and gloomily glances up at Caitlin. “I know what I did was stupid, but we’re not officially dating and he hasn’t asked me out.”

“Well, not everyone knows that. I think you should stay away from Ray for awhile,” Caitlin cautions.

Felicity closes her eyes in defeat and groans. “I know,” she bemoans. “But at the same time, I don’t want to completely push Ray away when I could possibly get a better position at Palmer Tech . . .”

She cringes on the inside knowing how bad it sounds, but it’s not how it seems. Felicity _does_ enjoy Ray’s company – a lot – and would like things to progress further, but given their respective jobs and Ray impending move it’s probably not going to happen. It was never Felicity’s intention to string Ray along, but in the event she doesn’t get promoted at Kord – which is always a possibility – she needs to have good relations with Ray in order to get a new job. So for now, Felicity decides, she’ll maintain a work appropriate relationship and hold off on walks in the park until she can figure out her situation at Kord.

Caitlin takes a deep breath then shrugs. “I get it. Palmer gave you an offer you can’t resist, and it’s always good to keep your option open. You two flirting and going on unofficial dates is just an added bonus.”

Felicity playfully rolls her eyes, but she has to admit she’s feeling a lot better after speaking with Caitlin. This situation had been weighing on her mind for a while now, and Felicity didn’t realize how she desperately needed to discuss with someone. After speaking about this with Caitlin, Felicity recognizes she _should’ve_ been a bit more careful in case someone from work found out, but better late than never, right?

“I’ll hold off on meeting Ray anytime soon, and if he asks why I’ll let him know.” Scrunching her nose she ponders, “I wonder how I should break it to him. Would saying ‘Hey, I like you but we can’t date because I could get fired’ sound too dramatic or . . .?”

“Definitely dramatic.” Her face turns serious and she says lowly, “Maybe tell him about a fake no-fraternization-with-the-enemy policy in your contract?”

“Uh . . .” Felicity’s about to tell Caitlin her suggestion is a little _too_ extreme, but in the event she needs another compelling argument – as if getting fired isn’t already serious – this might be a good one. “I’ll think about it.”

Caitlin visibly brightens, and Felicity’s struck by how lucky she is to have a friend like her. It’s always great to have someone to rely on for matters like these. Felicity just wishes she and Oliver were on the same level as she and Caitlin, but maybe she should accept the fact their friendship isn’t as deep as she wants it to be.

And the thought saddens her.

* * *

Although it’s a Tuesday, ridiculously wealthy and bored men are always on the lookout for a crazy party. Most of these men are investment bankers who are desperately trying to emulate a _The_ _Wolf of Wall Street_ lifestyle. Oliver has to hand it to them – they definitely know how to throw a party.

Case in point: tonight’s massive orgy party at a mansion, which has every known escort – male and female – in Chicagoland.

Oliver’s no stranger to orgies as they’ve slowly become one of his favorite things. There’s something exhilarating to watch so many people completely succumbed to their primal desires. Anything is welcome at orgies, whether it be BDSM, roleplay, a foursome or a number of other fantasies. As long as both parties come – pun intended – out happy, then it’s all the more reason to have orgies.

Oliver typically only sleeps with women, but when he’s at orgies sometimes he doesn’t mind sleeping with men. There’s something about being completely uninhibited and falling under the spell of sex and lust, which convinces him to do something he’s usually not accustomed to do. Sex is sex – how a person gets it shouldn’t matter. And for Oliver, he’ll take any offer he can get.

It’s well into the evening and the festivities have already started, but it usually takes Oliver a couple of hours to jump into orgies. He likes to watch others surrender to their desires, and once his arousal gets too much to handle he typically joins a group that’s not too busy.

Although orgies can be fun, Oliver gets paid significantly less than he does in his one-on-one appointments. When there are a lot of other escorts the bill is under one ticket, so they have to divide the earnings equally amongst each other. Fortunately for him, getting paid less means Oliver can leave whenever he wants and be with any client that catches his eye.

Hoping to clear his mind, he’s taken a breather out in the upstairs hallway in the host’s spare home while sipping from his champagne glass. The talking and laughing has lessened out here, but it’s been replaced by loud moans and groaning from various rooms in the home. Taking another deep breath, Oliver unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt as he prepares himself to join everyone in a night of debauchery.

As he takes a step towards the staircase, he suddenly hears a loud “No!” coming from one of the rooms, and his body freezes up in the realization.

_Shit_.

Oliver’s blood has gone cold because he can tell the difference between a playful, consenting “No” and a “No” meant to keep someone away. _What if they weren’t serious?_ Oliver shakes his head – deep down he knows the person screaming might actually be in trouble. He wants to kick himself in the face for justifying to stay put while someone – probably an escort – is being forced to do something they don’t want to.

Keeping still for another minute, he strains his ear to hear any other screams but nothing happens. Although it pains him to do so, he starts to go down the stairs when he hears a loud thud and something breaking.

_That’s it – I’m going._

Running back up the stairs, Oliver opens the first door to his left but stumbles upon a threesome. Swiftly shutting the door behind him, Oliver frantically searches for the source of where the yell came from but comes up short. An onslaught of adrenaline hits him and his body shakes in agitation, while his mind spins in circles. He _has_ to find the person and make sure they’re safe before something terrible happens. As life threatening scenarios run through his mind, Oliver’s on the verge of getting sick just from thinking about the horrible possibilities.

He has to do something. _Fast_.

Desperate to make sure the person is safe, he rushes over to the other side of the hallway and swings the door open, but he’s not prepared for the sight in front of him. A young girl is lying on the floor, clothes ripped apart and over in a pile next to her, while a man is restraining her by trapping her between his thighs. She’s actively fighting against him, but the man has put her hands above her head while he’s begun pressing a knee into her lower stomach. Oliver catches a glimpse of the poor girl’s frightened face, and in that moment he snaps.

It’s almost as if he’s running on autopilot – one minute he’s by the door, the next he’s yanked the fifty-year-old man away from the girl and throws as many punches as he can. The world is a hazy color of red and he can hear his blood pump loudly, but he’s focused on one thing only: beat the man bloody till he can’t walk straight.

His fist collides with the man’s face more times than he can count, and with each blow Oliver welcomes the stinging pain on his hand. Oliver vaguely hears the girl pleading to him to stop it but he pays her no mind – sick fuckers like this man shouldn’t be allowed to walk the earth.

And as his knuckles turn bloody, Oliver’s reminded of no matter what he or any other escort does, they’ll always be treated as filth. No matter how successful they are or how they’ve embraced their sexuality, they’ll always be treated as sex workers who are considered scum in society.

They’re nothing but sex objects to everyone else. And it absolutely _crushes_ him.

Oliver abruptly pulls back and falls backwards to the ground, his entire body shaking from adrenaline and the realization of what he’s done. Breathing heavily, he looks up and sees the man lying completely still with blood splattered all over his face and white shirt. His vision swimming, Oliver glances down at his hands and finds them completely soaked in blood.

_Oh God . . ._ What has he done? Did he _kill_ him?

The very thought almost causes Oliver to vomit, and it seems like the girl’s thinking the same thing since she’s slowly approaching the man to see if he’s alive. Crouching down near his arm, she lifts his limp wrist and places two fingers over his pulse point. With bated breath, Oliver watches and prays he hasn’t killed the man. He doesn’t know what he would do if…

Swallowing thickly, he sees the girl staring at him and nodding her head, letting Oliver know her would-be rapist is barely alive. Releasing an unsteady breath, Oliver closes his eyes – he can’t believe he beat a man to the point where he’s barely alive. His blind rage caught him off guard and it scares the _hell_ out of him. He felt powerful and uninhibited all at once, and in some ways it was the most freeing and exhilarating experience he’s had. But after knowing the kind of damage he can do, if something like this happens again there’s no telling what he’ll do.

Not only is he an uneducated former billionaire playboy, a prostitute and a barista, but he’s also a monster.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize when the girl quickly gathers her clothes and comes over to Oliver.

“We need to leave _now_. I know a backdoor where no one can see us.”

From this view, Oliver can tell she’s barely eighteen but her cold, steely eyes show him she’s seen her fair share of shit. Her practiced movements after the attack shows Oliver this man isn’t the first – or last – to take advantage of her.

The realization saddens him, and as she outstretches her hand while silently begging him to get his act together, he vows to himself he’s going to do whatever it takes to get this young girl away from this profession.

Oliver made a choice several years ago, but lost souls like this girl need a second chance. She’s desperate enough to continue pursuing a profession like this because she was never given a chance to be something else. Yet Oliver had a million chances to become a million different things, and he laughed it off because he never imagined he would be in this situation. He dug his own grave and intends to be buried in it.  

But he doesn’t want her to spend another day like this. If he can’t have a second chance, then he’ll damn well make sure she can.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a BDSM scene that's not an accurate representation of BDSM. It was done on purpose, so please keep in mind Oliver's actions are written carelessly for a reason. It's nothing too intense (there's only spanking) but if you prefer not to read it, it starts with "Well . . . This is new" and ends with "Taking one last look at Clare . . ." 
> 
> Once again, I have to give a massive thank you to [Tammy](http://curvy-tam.tumblr.com/) and [Mimi](http://the-mimi-hiddleston.tumblr.com/) for being wonderful Fic Bang buddies! 
> 
> And many thanks to the amazing [Sam!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller)
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes, and thank you all for the lovely reviews!

The door flies open into Verdant, the sound ricocheting off the club’s walls and jolting the club awake. His blood boiling in rage, Oliver thunders past the bar and heads straight to where Isabel is conducting business. Isabel doesn’t seem to pay any mind to who’s approaching, but the escort she’s talking to immediately stands as soon as she sees Oliver come up. He gives her a quick glance while silently telling her to leave, and sensing something serious is about to happen, she doesn’t waste another second before turning and leaving.

Oliver steps closer to Isabel and towers over her, but she continues to write in her accounting book as if she has all the time in the world. Her indifference indicates she knows exactly why he’s here, and it does nothing to lessen his anger. Fuck her.

“Why aren’t you letting Taiana leave?

After last night’s horrifying events, Oliver took the escort – Taiana – back to his place and made sure she was physically and emotionally fine, at least for the time being. He let her crash in his bed, but come morning Taiana got a call from Isabel asking her about the client. Taiana didn’t say much during the conversation, but after Oliver pushed Taiana to ask Isabel for more details, Isabel said the client who was about to rape Taiana alleged _she_ beat him bloody and he wanted a full refund. And because Taiana allegedly beat a man, she owes Isabel. A lot. The news infuriated Oliver, and here he is, willing to go toe to toe with the Snake of Chicago.

Isabel takes her sweet time to finish her work, her pen moving along the paper in practiced motions. Once she finishes, she calmly puts her books away and relaxes in the couch, sizing Oliver up. Her eyes touch upon Oliver’s bruised knuckles but she makes no comment of it. “Taiana signed a contract, she’s legally bound by it, _and_ she owes me money. I thought you of all people would understand that. And why do you suddenly care about her?”

Oliver ignores her question because he’s too busy fuming in anger. He fucking _hates_ her. She’s so selfish and disgusting. Isabel preys on innocent, lonely girls like Taiana and doesn’t give a thought to what might happen to them if someone like Oliver isn’t around to help them.

Oliver’s walking on a fine line here, but damn it, he can’t let this go. Taiana can’t stay as an escort – it’s too dangerous for her, and he vowed to get Taiana out of this business. He already plans to have Taiana become an employee at Jitters, but if she’s not allowed to leave Isabel’s grasp, then it’ll be next to impossible to get Taiana a legal job elsewhere.

But he _has_ to try.

“Being an escort is illegal. Shouldn’t it make her contract _not_ legally binding, then?”

If looks could kill, Isabel’s would’ve definitely blown Oliver to smithereens. Her eyes form into narrow slits and any trace of warmth she had left in her cold, black soul disappears. She doesn’t move a single muscle as she does so, and the simple action makes her more terrifying than usual. Swallowing thickly, Oliver does his best to stand a little taller and not let Isabel’s icy stare freeze his insides.

“Thomas, if I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought you were a lawyer.” She humorlessly chuckles to herself, as if it would be impossible to imagine Oliver as one. “But seeing as you’re not _and_ taking into account you’re _my_ employee,” Isabel hisses, “you don’t get to question my decisions.”

When Oliver was younger, fighting against authority figures was his way of passing time. It was so easy for him to rile up his parents, teachers, even cops. He enjoyed pushing people past their limit – he wanted to see if they would break, and in return, break him. It was a game meant to satisfy his craving for something dangerous. Of course, it never happened and Oliver continued to live out his life free of any consequences.

But right now, seeing Isabel’s fury brimming just under the surface is a frightening sight for him. He never imagined what it would feel to have someone powerful – someone who could _truly_ hurt him – threaten him, but today he’s gotten his first glimpse of it.  And he’s not sure if he wants to play this game anymore.

“I know all there is to know about you, Thomas. _Don’t_ push it.”

His breath catches in his throat while his heart beats thunderously beneath his chest as a tiny, satisfied smirk begins to form on her thin, villainous lips. Oliver starts to wonder if Isabel’s done her research on him but whether or not she’s bluffing doesn’t matter – her confidence shakes Oliver to the core.

Having Isabel as an enemy isn’t a good idea, and if this were yesterday he would’ve apologized immediately but back in his apartment there’s a young girl terrified of going back out as an escort, and he promised himself he would get her out of it.

Oliver’s given up on a lot of things and this won’t be one of them.

Clearing his throat, Oliver does his best to appear apologetic. “I . . . I won’t bother you again.”

“Good,” Isabel responds curtly. “And I don’t want you to ever disrupt another meeting of mine. Got it?”

She’s got a smug look on her face, and it takes every ounce of strength to stop himself from breaking Isabel in half. “Yeah.”

Satisfied, Isabel swiftly returns her attention back to her books. As he watches her calmly crunch numbers, Oliver feels a hint of a panic hit him, but of a different kind – the one where he knows he’s going to do something stupid, and that it might fail, but there’s no stopping. For once in his life, Oliver actually intends to take something into his own hands.

And destroying Isabel seems to be a good place to start.

* * *

The clock reads fifteen past ten in the morning but to Felicity it feels like it’s well into the afternoon. Her eyes burn with lack of sleep and overall exhaustion, and the only way to function is to drink copious amounts of coffee. She’s well aware of how addicted she is, but until Caitlin or anyone else can find something which will give her a nine hour energy boost, coffee it is.

(Maybe it should be called Velocity 9. The name alone would convince Felicity to buy a twelve pack in an instant.)

Sighing, she leaves her office and heads straight to the kitchen. Since her office is nearby the main conference room, Felicity likes to take a peek as to what’s transpiring in there. Typically it’s empty, but sometimes senior managers meet once in awhile to discuss their projects. Other than that the room is rarely used and collects dust as everyone else goes about their daily business.

But today is a little different – Brian, her boss, and the director of Kord Industries’ R&D are in the conference room with Hartley. They’re all smiling and laughing at something, and she’s suddenly hit with a feeling of intense dread. Her stomach churns and her throat closes up, because the director of R&D _never_ ventures into the IT department.

Something’s up and it makes Felicity beyond nervous to see everyone act friendly with each other. Hartley’s a simple researcher – how is it possible he’s having a meeting with such important people?

Her stomach still churning, Felicity continues to walk towards the kitchen but she’s suddenly not in the mood for coffee. She’s about to turn away when she spots Caitlin and the IT Department’s secretary, Jerry, talking by the counter. Caitlin notices Felicity and beckons her to come over and despite the fact she _has_ to know what’s going on Felicity reluctantly joins.

“Hey, do you guys know why Hartley’s speaking with Brian in the conference room?” Felicity inquires.

This appears to be news for Caitlin since her eyes immediately go round, but Jerry seems to have known beforehand as he nods solemnly. “Mr. Schaeffer’s secretary called me up today to block off time in the conference room.”

Felicity’s heart beats loudly beneath her chest as she prepares herself to ask Jerry the most important question of all. “Do you know why?”

Glancing out the hallway then between her coworkers, he leans forward and says low, “He’s being offered the Senior IT Consultant position. If it were up to me, I would’ve fired him a _long_ time ago.”

A sudden wave of nausea hits Felicity as her stomach drops to the floor and her head spins in circles. She can hear the blood thunderously pump inside her ears – she’s briefly aware of Caitlin asking Jerry for more details, but Felicity can’t bother to stand here for another minute. She has to leave. _Now_.

Pushing past the two, Felicity runs straight back to her office, making sure to avoid looking at the conference room. Her heart beating wildly and not caring about office etiquette, Felicity slams her door shut and stops in the middle of her office. Her body can’t handle the onslaught of emotions – her legs are shaking and she feels like she might throw up.

With an unsteady breath, Felicity sits down in the nearest chair and tries to control her panicked state. Taking in another breath, she attempts to rein in her emotions and assess what just transpired. It appears, of all people, Hartley Rathaway was offered the Senior IT Consultant position at Kord Industries. And based on what she saw on her way to the kitchen, it looks like he accepted the offer.

_What. The. Frack._

Hartley’s been working for the same amount of time Felicity’s been at Kord, yet he’s been given the job Felicity’s been working towards ever since she got there. He’s an entitled asshole who barely spends time in the IT department – no one likes him, not even anyone in R&D. How did he get this offer when Felicity’s worked overtime, spent her weekends working and slaving over every detail to make sure it’s perfect?

But she already knows the answer: Felicity’s a woman and women don’t get to move up in the business world.

All of a sudden Felicity’s nausea and dizziness subsidizes, and she sees red _everywhere_. Her skin burns with adrenaline and anger, and she has the urge to knock over everything on her desk.

Except she doesn’t.

Instead, Felicity swiftly heads over to her desk and grabs her cell phone, immediately scrolling through her call log and searching for the person who could make this a thousand times better. Her hand shaking, Felicity almost dials Ray’s number before stopping and second-guessing herself.

She has no doubt she’ll have a conversation with Brian about why Hartley was hired as opposed to her, and Felicity imagines a scenario in which she tells him to fuck off and burns the whole building down (after escorting out innocent people who had nothing to do with this situation, of course). But no matter what Brian says, Felicity knows she was overlooked because she’s a woman, and the thought alone boils her blood. Felicity can’t possibly stay at a company where she’s treated like a second-class citizen and looked over for any senior position she’s clearly qualified for. Kord Industries should be _begging_ on their knees to keep someone like Felicity in their company, but it seems they could care less about having a certified genius and dedicated worker around.

Yet, calling Ray up and asking for a position at Palmer Tech will mean she’ll move to Star City and leave her life behind in Chicago. And Felicity loves Chicago – she loves the food, the people, the Midwestern charm mixed in with an aggressive city attitude, the stunning architecture and her friends. In the past three years Chicago has become her home, and Felicity doesn’t want to let it go.

Or maybe she doesn’t want to let go of _someone_.

* * *

“Well . . . This is new.”

His client, Clare, laughs and shakes her head. “Am I supposed to be proud I’m your first client to not orgasm and tell you to stop?”

Oliver can sense she’s a little self-conscious right now and quickly tries to remedy the situation. “You’re not the first client to not orgasm on the first try. You’re not alone.”

“But I feel like it.” Clare buries her face in her hands and groans loudly. “I love sex! Or at least I used to. Why is this happening?”

Two weeks ago Oliver got an appointment request by Clare and thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until he met her today he realized A) this appointment was set up by her husband, and B) she was a lot more complicated than she appeared. Her appointment is supposed to last an hour plus extra thirty minutes if need be, but thirty minutes into this session and she’s ready to give up.

Oliver’s not fazed – he’s had clients who would have to dump a gallon of lube in order to make things smoother, and he’s had clients who never even knew what an actual orgasm felt like. Clare’s story isn’t unique, and unfortunately it’s a common problem among women.

Currently, they’re sitting on opposite sides of the bed completely naked. Clare doesn’t seem the least bit awkward right now, for which Oliver is grateful – he doesn’t get very many clients who are comfortable with their bodies. “Maybe after having my first kid my body decided orgasming wasn’t a thing.”

Oliver suspected Clare had just given birth considering the stretch marks and the scar on her abdomen, but he didn’t ask her in fear of being insensitive. “That’s not possible – it’s got to be something else. Kids don’t just –”

“Kill your sex drive? You’d be surprised. Wait till you have to wake up every two hours at night to get them to stop crying.”

He laughs tiredly and tries to mask how disinterested he is in this appointment. Although Clare is much more tolerable than his other clients, he can’t stop thinking about Taiana going back to prostitution, and his bruised knuckles reminding him of last night’s events. Typically he’s willing to solve a conundrum like this but he’s not in the mood. Still, Clare came to him for a specific reason and he doesn’t want to let her down.

“Have you been stressed?”

She shakes her head. “Ever since I had my daughter I stopped going to work, so I have nothing else to worry about besides her.” Fiddling with the blanket she adds, “My husband and I are in a good place – obviously, since he suggested I come to you – and financially we’re doing fine. I really don’t know what the issue is.”

Perplexed by this enigma, Oliver searches his brain for any kind of solution. “Have you tried role playing?”

Clare looks at him curiously before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Like Fifty Shades of Grey? No thanks!”

The mere mention of that horrid book almost causes Oliver to almost vomit, but he manages to hold it in. “Fifty Shades isn’t what I had in mind. Although . . .”

Come to think of it, maybe Clare is having a hard time orgasming because she’s not being stimulated in the right way. In the thirty minutes they were having sex, they tried various positions but none of them did anything for her. No doubt she was aroused, but it wasn’t enough to send her over the edge.

But what if she has a fetish she doesn’t know about? Often times, people don’t venture into these avenues because of the stigma attached to it.

“Have you tried BDSM?”

“BDSM?” Her eyebrows furrow in concentration. “I mean, the closest we get to that is when we do doggy style and the like . . .”

Shaking his head, Oliver tries to rephrase his question to make it more understandable. “When I say BDSM, I mean tying you – or your husband – down, spanking, things like that.”

“ _Oh_.”

Clare cheeks redden slightly and Oliver assumes she’s probably thought about it but felt embarrassed voicing her desires. What a shame.

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with that. And I’m a feminist. Spanking is – no.”

Oliver bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a smirk. “You can be a feminist and still enjoy spanking. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Sighing with exasperation, Clare shrugs and rubs the nape of her neck. “I . . . I don’t know, it feels a little degrading.”

“I get it.” It’s painfully obvious Clare wants to venture into the world of BDSM, but she’s too shy to step into the rabbit hole. If Clare voiced a desire to try BDSM, Oliver would’ve canceled the appointment and referred her to Emerald’s seasoned BDSM experts. Instead, it seems Oliver will have to coax it out of her until she feels comfortable admitting it’s what she wants. He knows he’s not entirely qualified to give Clare an entire BDSM experience, but he feels he can handle a little precursor to the world of BDSM.

“We could start small – nothing too intense like _actual_ BDSM.” He hopes this suggestion will make Clare less uncomfortable.

Contemplating for a moment, Clare shakes her head and looks down on the bed. “I’d probably laugh the whole time or something.” Glancing down at the bed, Clare mumbles, “Maybe you could be a . . .”

He’s straining his ears at this point, and once she trails off Oliver clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Now’s not the time to be shy – I’ve had _a lot_ of odd requests. Trust me when I say nothing will faze me,” he assures her.

Taking a deep breath, Clare takes a moment to compose herself while Oliver waits in anticipation. “Could you be a little . . . rough? Just, you know, hair pulling and ordering me around . . .”

Now _that_ is certainly the tamest request he’s ever had. “Yeah. Anything you want.” Oliver shifts on the bed and asks, “Do you have anything you don’t want to do? I think it would be good if you made a list of what you want and don’t want.”

Clare’s eyes widen then she shrugs. “I guess . . . no crazy stuff? I don’t know. I don’t want anything that’ll make me gag or leave me with bruises.”

“Right – so no hard kinks,” Oliver clarifies. She simply nods, as if she’s a student in math class who’s slightly confused, but after reviewing notes she’ll catch up soon. “I can work with that.”

“OK.”

There’s an awkward pause and Oliver can tell Clare’s getting nervous. He knows she won’t initiate anything, so he takes it upon himself to do so.

Getting into the right mindset, Oliver seductively leans forward and gazes into Clare's eyes, imitating a form of lust only films can conjure. He notices Clare's a bit intrigued but still on edge – he'll fix that soon enough. Bringing a hand up to her cheek, Oliver cups her face and gently beckons her forward. Kissing her lightly, Oliver lets Clare lower her guard before biting down onto her lower lip just enough to give her a pause.

Pulling back, Clare seems slightly affronted but there's a spark in her eyes, and they shine with curiosity. Grinning, Oliver goes to kiss her once more, but she pulls back again with a glint in her eye.

It appears Clare wants a challenge. And he'll give that to her.

With his hand still cupping her face, Oliver drags it down a little lower and tucks his fingers beneath her jaw and earlobe, while gently massaging the nape of her neck with his remaining four fingers. Clare's eyes flutter for a moment, her guard once again lowering, but Oliver has other plans. Clare gasps as Oliver yanks her head towards him and crushes her mouth against his, punishing her mouth in all the ways he can think of.

Moaning loudly, Clare's hands come up to wrap around his broad shoulders but he doesn't let her. Still kissing her, Oliver let goes of her face and traps her hands, preventing them from moving anywhere.

Needing some air, Oliver pulls back and breathes harshly, but he doesn't miss Clare's eyes glossing over and blackening as her arousal increases. There's a fire burning in Oliver too – he can feel some sort of tension coiling up inside of him, begging to be let out.

Taking one last look at Clare's and letting go of her hands, he hoarsely orders, "Lie on your stomach."

She hesitates for a split second, but as Oliver narrows his eyes and silently commands her to obey him, Clare gets the hint and slowly rolls over. Positioning himself behind her, Oliver gets a nice view of her backside – he can tell she's working on getting back to her former shape pre-baby.

Leaning forward, Oliver goes to kiss her shoulders but ends up gently biting her – Clare gasps but holds still, while her hands clench the pillows in front of her. Smiling to himself, Oliver gently laps at the area of impact before moving to the other shoulder. From the way Clare's shoulder's have tensed, Oliver can tell she assumes he'll bite her there, but he doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing what's coming next.

Instead, he grabs a fistful of hair and slightly yanks her head back, watching as Clare's lovely neck becomes elongated and practically begging to be kissed. Clare lets out a tiny yelp, but he swallows it by leaning over and kissing her unashamedly. She's not the best kisser but she's a fast learner – pretty soon, Oliver's starting to enjoy making out with her and hums his approval.

He abruptly pulls back, leaving Clare breathless and wondering what he's going to do now. Craning her neck to the side, Clare tries to get a better glimpse but Oliver clicks his tongue.

"No peeking."

"But –"

"And no talking."

Clare seems a little taken aback, as if she's not used to people ordering her around. Figures – she's a socialite with a daddy who owns half of Chicago. (Naturally, Oliver did his research on her.) Having a prostitute tell her what she can and can't do might be throwing her off balance.

But he doesn't care. He has a job to do.

Swallowing her pride, Clare turns her head back around and Oliver goes to lift her ass up to him. She willingly obliges – maybe too much – but it lets him know she's enjoying this moment.  

She's soaking wet at this point, but Oliver has to stimulate her more and needs her begging before he'll give her what she'll want. Palming her ass, Oliver kneads it for a moment then dips his fingers between her folds. Moaning wantonly, Clare practically sinks into the bed and lets Oliver's fingers fuck her in any way he wants. He goes slow at first, focused on getting her comfortable and finding all the ways she likes to be touched. His fingers gently brush over her clit and she pushes back against him, but the action causes him to abruptly remove his fingers out.

Clare clicks her tongue in annoyance and she turns her neck to see why Oliver stopped. Shaking his head, Oliver leans back and leaves a large amount of distance between them. "What did I say about peeking?"

Huffing in annoyance, Clare turns her head back around and settles onto the bed. Although she's not used to people ordering her, Oliver notices a rosy flush beginning to form on the apples of her cheeks and her pupils dilating more with each passing second. If Clare wasn't able to orgasm before, she certainly is now.  

Seeing how willing she is, Oliver decides to up the ante. "I want to add one more thing on the list of things you can't do: moving around."

Clare immediately moves her neck to possibly roll her eyes at him but stops short of doing so. _Good girl_ . He can see her steeling her resolve and trying to come to terms with the fact that she's enjoying the hell out of being ordered around. Some people have kinks they otherwise wouldn't dare explore, and Clare's one of them. _Today is her lucky day_ , Oliver muses.

Once she's settled into her respective role, Oliver comes near her and leans forward, putting his mouth close to her ear. She shivers at the contact, and Oliver almost laughs at how easily he's able to make her into a puddle of obedience. "Remember: no peeking, no talking _and_ definitely no moving."

She then steadies herself, positioning her body so that Oliver can take her from behind as smoothly as he can. He stalls for a moment, waiting to see if she'll turn impatient and ruin this whole thing. Instead, she surprises him by keeping still and biting her tongue back.

Slowly, Oliver sinks into her even though she's been introduced to his size before – he just wants to see how she'll react to his excruciatingly slow process. His hard-on is beginning to be an issue as well, since he just _had_ to take Viagra, and he wants to get this appointment over with so he can relieve all the pressure.

Oliver quickly builds up the pace, grabbing onto Clare's hips and slamming into her without a care in the world. His pelvis slaps against her bum, and the sound of it mixed in with the heady smell of sex spurs him on. Clare doesn't move an inch, look over her shoulder or speak, but he sees her fisting the pillows in front of her and can hear her holding back her cries of pleasure.

As Oliver builds up a furious tempo, Clare suddenly says, "Wait."

Breathless, Oliver stops immediately and worries he might have been too vigorous in his fucking. "Something wrong?" If he accidentally hurt Clare or displeased her, there's a chance she could tell Isabel, and Isabel doesn't take bad reviews too lightly.

"No, no I – actually . . . Can you. . ."

"Yeah?" As much as Clare has been a better client (compared to many others), his patience is kind of wearing thin. And he knows it's his job to be as attentive as possible, but right now he's got so many other things on his mind – Taiana, Isabel's wrath, and even Felicity blowing him off every chance she gets. Clare's orgasm problems and her indecisiveness aren’t making matters any better.

Craning her neck to the side, she breaks another one of Oliver's rules and softly whispers, "I changed my mind." Oliver stays put, unsure if he should pull out or wait till she explains the situation further.

Swallowing thickly, Clare takes a deep breath and Oliver anticipates what comes out of her mouth next. "Can you . . . spank me?"

_That was expected_. "Sure, I can do it."

"But – but don't go right to it, if you know what I mean."

Clare's facing the headboard back again, but Oliver can tell she's psyching herself up for his upcoming punishment. But he understands what she wants – a gentle precursor to the world of spanking.

"Gotcha."

Still inside of her, Oliver pulls out and immediately begins to knead her bum. He debates whether or not he should continue order her around, but since she hasn't said otherwise he'll do what she previous asked. Maybe he'll throw in some dirty talk.

"You've been a bad girl, haven't you?" Still massaging her ass, Oliver tries not to snort at his horrible dirty talk and attempts to control himself. He's really bad at it, but considering Clare hasn't said anything maybe _she_ does enjoy it.

"You can nod if you want." Clare nods vigorously, and her silent answer is all he needs to know in order to continue this appointment.

"Good girl," he cooes as he continues to knead her ass. Clare's still bracing for impact as her muscles are naturally tense, and he knows she won't loosen up anytime soon. Lifting his hand from her ass, Oliver puts all the pressure on his fingertips and smacks her, knowing the impact won't be too hard on her.

As a reflex, Clare gives a tiny gasp and moves away from him, but Oliver grabs her hips to hold her still. "What did I say about moving?"

Forgetting about Oliver's rules, Clare scoffs loudly and almost says something before realizing she made a very big mistake. Oliver doesn't hesitate – his palm forcefully connects to her ass and the sound pierces the air. His hand stings from the attack, but he can only imagine what Clare feels like. Her ass has a big, red imprint of his hand, and she's tensed up a lot more now. Oliver worries he was too harsh on her, but she surprises him when she doesn't say a word and slightly pushes her bum back, silently begging for more. Clare doesn't respond or move a muscle, but the slickness coating her inner thighs lets Oliver know this is exactly what she needed the entire time. And if she handle this much, she can handle more.

"And _that_ is what happens when you break the rules. So next time control yourself."

He goes on to play with her folds, teasing her just enough to make her relaxed once again, then abruptly spanking her, his hand stinging from the impact. Clare holds on tight and doesn't move an inch. "Atta girl." Leaning forward, Oliver comes up to her ear once more and whispers, "If you're a good girl maybe I'll let you come. And trust me, after I'm done with you . . . you will."

Clare closes her eyes in lust and at the idea of finally getting a chance to orgasm; meanwhile Oliver's excited at the prospect of getting this appointment over with. Bringing up his hand again, Oliver smacks her bum, harder than last time, and Clare takes in like the champ she is.

One spank turns into three, and something begins to stir inside Oliver. He's feeling anxious, angry and confused all rolled into one horribly shaped emotion ball. He's barely able to keep it in. His vision narrows and he's only focused on his turbulent emotions and his hand connecting with Clare's ass like a well-oiled machine.

_Tianna lying underneath the man with her clothes ripped of . ._ .

Smack!

_Isabel's satanic face . . ._

Smack!

_Felicity blowing him off . . ._

Smack!

_Not being good enough for Felicity, his sister and parents . . ._

Smack!

_Being a complete failure and a prostitute . . ._

Smack, smack, smack –

"Ow!"

Oliver's hand stops midair, frozen in time and space. It takes him a moment to register what he's done, but once Clare's word sinks in and he sees her bum completely red from his hands, he thinks he might vomit.

Breaking from his trance, Oliver crumbles and hurriedly tries to create some distance between them. A rush of adrenaline hits him and he can't even see straight. His heart beats erratically and the full realization of what he's done hits him like a ton of bricks.

"I – I'm sorry, I shouldn't –"

_Shit!_ There’s no way to ignore this – he genuinely lost control in the middle of an appointment. His vision blurs and he shakes his head as he tries to reconcile with what he did. As bile moves its way up to his throat, Oliver can’t believe he injured a client when he explicitly knows he shouldn't have done that. And to make matters worse, he genuinely _forgot_ to ask Clare for a safe word.

What’s wrong with him? Oliver's a professional – he's supposed to be better than this. Spiraling out of control during an appointment is unbecoming of him. It shows he's not strong enough to keep his emotions in check, and the realization makes him dizzy with frustration. Mentally kicking himself on the head, Oliver’s self-loathing reaches at an alltime high – being an escort is the easiest job in the world and he can’t even do that.

With shaky legs, Oliver unsteadily stands up and closes his eyes in disgust. He’s the epitome of the word pathetic, and he can’t stay here a minute longer.

"Wait – I still want –" Clare turns around and her eyes go wide once she sees Oliver gathering his clothes. "What are you doing?"

"I should leave." Refusing to look at her and with trembling hands, Oliver tries to put on his clothes as fast as he can.

"Thomas, wait." Clare sits up on the bed and beckons him over. "That wasn't –"

"Clare, I'm sorry but I – I should really go." He's put on all of his clothes now and swiftly checks to see if he's left anything else behind. His legs are still unsteady and he's unsure if he'll be able to make it out of the door.

"What the hell . . ." Clare throws her hands in the air and angrily asks, "Can't you tell me what went wrong?"

Taking a deep breath, Oliver gathers enough courage to look at Clare for a split second. "Look, I won't charge you for this."

"I don't care about that."

Oliver takes a peek and sees that her arms are folded, while she peers at Oliver with equal parts concern and annoyance. He wishes he could tell her what went wrong, to even how he's fucked up his life, but he can't. No one wants to hear a prostitute tell their sob story, especially not after he hurt them.

Taking one last look at Clare, he mumbles "I'm . . . sorry" and opens the door to leave, ignoring Clare's protests as he hangs his head in shame.

* * *

It’s been nearly a month since Felicity’s seen Oliver in person, and she hopes tonight’s movie night will make up for her absence.  Although they text, it’s not enough to fill the void of not seeing him in month. She hopes he doesn’t think she was blowing him off, which can’t be further from the truth. Tonight is going to be all about getting back together like old times, and she wants it to be as perfect as it can be.

Unfortunately, she’s been in a horrible mood since she found out Hartley got promoted instead of her, and no amount of candy, wine and food will calm her down. Hopefully Oliver’s presence and a lighthearted film will do the trick.

As Felicity sets up the food, she ponders whether or not she should take Ray’s offer for a position at Palmer Tech. Moving to Star City will naturally give her a better job and overall atmosphere than at Kord, but it will put her a short plane ride away from her mother and Felicity _can’t_ possibly have that. And most of all, she’ll be leaving behind her friends, this lovely city and Oliver. But is staying in Chicago for friends and good food worth it when she could have a lifetime of opportunities at Star City?

She doesn’t want to be the kind of girl who sits around for an opportunity to fall on her lap while hundreds go by her, but for some reason she can’t shake this off. Felicity had never intended on becoming a chief officer – she thought becoming senior manager or director would satisfy her until she retired. But this is uncharted territory for Felicity and she doesn’t even know where to begin. The amount of money and exposure she’ll get from becoming CTO will be astronomical, and she’ll actually get a chance to make a _real_ difference.   

What Felicity really needs is a definitive answer from the person who matters to her most, because she ultimately wants someone to tell her what to do. However, she has to keep in mind what she _wants_ may not be the best thing for her. Maybe what she _needs_ is a change of scenery, coworkers and a job title that’ll allow her to change the world.

A loud knock interrupts her thoughts and excited at the prospect of seeing Oliver, she happily opens the door, but her cheery mood is shot to hell after seeing Oliver’s uninterested expression.

_Well . . ._ _This is odd_.

He looks dashing, of course, with a leather jacket and white shirt underneath, but she can tell something’s off. His eyes are not as warm as they used to be and his lips are in a thin, neutral line as opposed to a smile. Upon seeing Felicity, he feigns happiness by giving her a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

In order to dispel whatever tension there seems to be, Felicity gives him a warm smile and greets, “Hey! How are you?”

Oliver’s face goes from indifferent to slightly less indifferent, and at this point Felicity’s beyond confused as to why he’s behaving this way. “Hey. I’m good,” he says gruffly, as his eyes wander inside the apartment. “Mind if I come in?”

_He doesn’t waste time, does he?_ “Uh – nope, not at all. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Felicity attempts to joke. The joke does nothing to alleviate Oliver’s cool attitude towards her – he simply gives another fake smile and pretends it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Counting backwards from three, Felicity takes a deep breath and tries not to blow up on Oliver. Ever since this morning’s events she’s been walking on pins and needles. She graciously invited him to her apartment – the least he could do is act excited about it.

Once Felicity shuts the door behind him, she quickly walks over to the kitchen counter and points to all the food. “I don’t think we’ve had Korean yet, so I bought a whole bunch in case you didn’t like a particular dish.” She smiles again and adds, “Obviously I’m not a cultured _or_ adventurous eater, so you’ll have to tell me if something is worth trying.”

Oliver simply nods and Felicity can practically feel the disinterest roll off of him in waves. Why does he have to act like this? They haven’t seen each other in so long, and he’s ruining their get together – _again_ – due to his moody attitude.

Felicity soldiers on while she tries to ignore his horrible behavior.

“So anyway, I have _major_ news to tell you.”

“Oh yeah?”

It seems like his interest has piqued, and Felicity takes it as a good sign that his cold demeanor is slowly thawing. “But it’s not good news.”

“Oh. Yikes,” he deadpans. He sits on one of the dining chairs and opens a bottle of water, waiting for Felicity to explain. He might as well put on headphones and tune her out, and it takes every bit of strength to not roll her eyes at him.

“Hartley got promoted as a Senior Consultant.”

Immediately, his nonchalant façade breaks and eyes go wide with shock. “What the hell?”

“Right?” Felicity happily sits leans against the counter, because now she feels like they’ve reached a common ground – that ground being their mutual hatred against Hartley. And on the plus side, she now has a chance to vent.

“I saw him, my manager and the director of R&D talking in the conference room, and after I asked around I found out the truth. It’s almost as bad of a twist as Ned Stark dying.”

Well, that’s debatable.

Oliver blows out a breath. “What are you going to do?”

There it is: the moment of truth. She considers telling Oliver about her plan, but she needs to know what he thinks of it. In some weird way, Felicity feels as if she needs his approval before joining Palmer Tech. Whether it’s due to his odd (unknown) feelings towards Ray or how much she’s come to rely on Oliver for _everything_ , Felicity feels she can’t make a proper decision until she hears what he has to say.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity looks at Oliver square in the eye and steadies herself. “I was thinking about taking the job offer from Palmer Tech.”

That does it – the atmosphere shifts from slightly normal to downright unbearable, and Felicity’s positive this night is completely ruined.  Instead of being happy for her, Oliver’s face pales and his eyes narrow in contemplation, while Felicity’s heart beats thunderously beneath her chest. Swallowing thickly, Felicity holds her guns steady and does her best not to let Oliver’s response – or lack thereof – upset her.

After a tense few seconds, Oliver finally opens his mouth and asks, “Why?”

The real question is why _wouldn’t_ she consider taking Ray’s offer? She was looked over for a senior position at a job she’s given so much to, and he’s actually wondering why she’s thinking about getting a job – a job she doesn’t have to apply for – at Palmer Tech? Ray said she could have any position she wanted, even CTO, which is more than she can ask for. His offer is astronomically better than what Kord Industries’ is giving her, which in case Oliver forgot, happens to be nothing.

Scoffing, Felicity shakes her head in disbelief. “Don’t you remember Ray offering me _any_ position at Palmer Tech?”

“Right. I . . . forgot.” Oliver simply nods and takes a sip from the water bottle, acting as if he would rather watch the paint dry than hear about Felicity’s prospects and work drama.

She’s getting pretty frustrated now. It’s as if she has to defend why she would go to Palmer Tech, never mind the fact that Palmer Tech is one of the most profitable companies out there with amazing benefits packages. Furthermore, Palmer Tech strives to be a leader in affordable green technology, philanthropy, and helping the American economy by making its products in the States. They’re a socially conscious company, and Felicity’s values fall right in line with Palmer Tech. The company would be a perfect fit for her, but it seems Oliver feels she doesn’t deserve to be there.  

Lifting up her chin, Felicity unintentionally slips, “Ray even said he would personally make a public bid to the Board of Directors in order for me to get a chief officer position.”

_Frack_ – she hadn’t meant to let that spill. Although she and Ray have lessened their talking and unofficial dates, they still chat from time to time. After hearing about how wonderful Palmer Tech is – and based off what she’s read online – it seems like Palmer Tech might be the place for her. Plus, if he can convince everyone to let her on board, she might as well.

“You’ve been talking to him a lot, haven’t you?”

_Where did that come from?_

A lump forms in her throat, preventing her from breathing normally, and her heartbeat increases tenfold. Her mind doesn’t want to overthink what he just said . . . except it can only mean one thing: he’s jealous of her and Ray talking.

The realization makes her head spin in circles, and her brain tries very hard to justify this doesn’t necessarily mean he has _feelings_ for her. But maybe he does – maybe he’s not happy with her possibly going to Palmer Tech because that would mean she’d have to move. And –

_No_ . She can’t get into such dangerous territory. _If_ – and that’s a big if – Oliver likes her, so what? She’s not going to put her life on standby for Oliver who has yet to express any interest in her. It’s entirely possible Oliver’s upset with her talking to Ray because he thinks she’s been blowing him off for Ray, which is clearly not the case (well, except for one time).

Although, she _has_ thought about what would happen if they were actually boyfriend and girlfriend. She has no doubt he would spoil her with his amazing food and random gifts, and since they’ve been friends for a few months they’re past the phase of getting to know one another. Yet, she doesn’t know a lick about Oliver and would wager he wouldn’t open up even if they got together. Not to mention, Oliver’s a prostitute and Felicity’s not comfortable with telling Oliver to quit his livelihood because she can’t handle sharing him. And that’s a problem for her – relationships are built on communication, honesty and trust.

Their friendship is already on fragile grounds, and forcing a relationship built on lies would surely make things worse. And Felicity can’t begin to imagine how she would introduce Oliver to mother and friends. There’s a reason why Felicity hasn’t told anyone Oliver’s her friend, because she knows their friendship wouldn’t go too well with people in the real world. What they have is unique and weird – unfortunately she _knows_ their tentative friendship won’t be able to handle what real life will throw at them.

Besides, they’re on completely opposite spectrums – while Felicity’s life continues to move forward because she hustles every day, Oliver’s stays stagnant and it’s entirely due to his own volition. Being in a relationship would undoubtedly fail due to their conflicting personalities, as well as their varying future personal and career goals.

And Felicity has to wonder whether these feelings she’s been repressing for awhile are a product of her slowly falling in love with Oliver, or Felicity simply projecting what she wants in a relationship into a friendship.

She realizes now she’s been holding back on Ray’s offer because she’s been hoping Oliver liked her, and _not_ in the platonic way. Felicity liked the idea of she and Oliver, but reality is much different. Unfortunately, pursuing a relationship with him will only make things worse, and more importantly, all the seeds Felicity planted many years ago are finally taking hold – at this point, she would be incredibly stupid to not take Ray’s offer for a potentially tumultuous relationship.

With a heavy heart, Felicity decides once and for all to join Ray at Palmer Tech and leave Chicago, Oliver and everyone else, behind.

It physically pains her to put her friendship aside for her career. Her friendship with Oliver has given her something to look forward to every Sunday and Wednesday, and she doesn’t want to be the kind of person to ruin relationships for the sake of money and a job title. But she has to admit – it’s holding her back from making an important decision, and she has to do what’s best for her, even if it hurts herself and others in the process.

She still needs time to process her decision and let Ray know she plans on leaving Kord Industries for his company, so in the meantime she won’t tell Oliver until things are final. And considering how awful his attitude been since he got here, she definitely doesn’t plan on telling him anything right now.

Focusing back on the matter at hand, Felicity finally says, “Yeah, we have been.”

He looks mildly interested in her answer, but it disappears under a cool expression. “Well, I hope he’s not offering to support you in front of the Board because you two are _dating_.”

A chill runs down her spine – not in fear, but in anger and complete shock.  She feels like she’s had her throat punched, thrown off a building _and_ taken an arrow to the knee. Her breathing rapidly increases, and she fears she won’t be able to handle the torrent of emotions overtaking her.

That was extremely uncalled for. She’s hurt and livid, and she can feel a bead of sweat break on her forehead due to the heat emanating off of her. How _dare_ he insinuate she only got an offer because Ray’s sweet on her, or worse, because he thinks she and Ray have been sleeping together? Oliver knows how hard she’s worked to get where she’s at – she’s never begged, thrown someone under the bus or taken an easier path, and she doesn’t plan to for the foreseeable future.

But for Oliver to mention, let alone _think_ , she got this offer because of her relationship with Ray makes her blood boil. Many years ago Felicity vowed to make a name for herself using her wit, hard work ethic and intelligence. After several sleepless nights, heartaches and one blow after another, she’s done exactly that and couldn’t be prouder. What Oliver said is the biggest insult anyone’s ever told her, and for it to come from someone as close as Oliver hurts her deeply.

Making the decision to move to Star City just got a lot easier. And really, screw him for even saying that.

“Why are you being such a jerk?”

Clearly taken aback from her comment, Oliver immediately masks his confusion by clenching his jaw and getting defensive as well.

“I’m not.”

If only Felicity could roll her eyes at the back of her head, she would. He’s lying and they both know it. “Really? You’ve been nothing but standoffish and rude since you got here.”

“I haven’t.”

“Your,” Felicity begins as she waves her towards his general direction, “ _everything_ says otherwise.” She’s _not_ letting him off so easy, and her body shakes with agitation mixed in with a dangerous dose of adrenaline.

Oliver scoffs and she can tell he’s getting riled up too. _Whatever_. “I’m sorry I’m not throwing confetti at you, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Throwing _confetti_?”

It appears underneath the charm, his niceness and awesome cooking skills, Oliver is a typical privileged douchebag. She can’t believe she wasted all this time with him. As a friend – as someone she’s dedicated everything to – all she wants is Oliver to be happy for her. She doesn’t want or need him to throw a party. He should know that about her. So why does he think Felicity expects him to dance around her apartment singing “Kumbaya?”

“I just want you –”

“I’m – I’m only wondering why someone like _you_ needs someone like _Ray_ to vouch for them to a Board of Directors when you can sleep your way to the CEO’s bed.”

All the air in the room gets sucked out and is replaced by burning hot gas. It prickles her skin, makes her see red, and she knows after what he said they _definitely_ can’t come back from this.

This is their first real fight as friends, but it’s an ugly one and she can tell there are a lot of unsaid things underneath the horrible words. But she’s so fucking angry, and she’s not in the mood to be a mediator and the only sane one in this argument. She’s had enough of men thinking she should sit quietly and let them treat her like a second-class citizen, and Oliver is no different.

“Funny, because I thought it was your job.”

She immediately feels guilty for what she said and she can see the hurt on Oliver’s eyes. There’s a part of her that wants to apologize and end the night on a good note, but she’s been a human volcano since she found out about Hartley, and she’s sick of taking the high road every single time. Oliver needs to know she’s not the kind of person to always let people trample over her without any repercussions.

He opens his mouth to say something – whether it’s to apologize or say another mean comment – but she doesn’t let him.

“I think you should leave, Oliver.”

Folding her arms, Felicity glances down at the ground and does her best to convey that she doesn’t want him here anymore. Tonight has been . . . too much, and she can’t sit through another second in this toxic environment.

For the first time during the entire night, Oliver’s face shows real emotions rather than being an expressionless mannequin. Leaning forward, he pleads, “Felicity, I didn’t –”

“I know Oliver, but please.”

She’s so _tired_ right now. Even if he’s willing to apologize Felicity needs to process what happened. And although this may be completely horrible, perhaps it’s best if she completely cut ties from Oliver when she moves to Star City. Trying to hold onto something that wasn’t there in the first place simply complicates things. Felicity needs a fresh start, and she’s no stranger to leaving everything behind in a moment’s notice.

Steadying her resolve, Felicity firmly says, “We need some time to cool off.”

It seems like a solid minute before Oliver moves from the chair – she can sense he’s disappointed, but she doesn’t let it get to her. Once he moves, Felicity can’t muster the courage to look at him as he leaves. It hurts knowing how bad things are ending, but she has to do what’s best for her.

The sound of his heavy shoes echo loudly off the walls, and as he nears the door Felicity can feel Oliver looking at her. It takes every bit of strength to not turn around to run to his arms, but she controls herself and straightens her back in steely resolve. _This is it._

After a moment, the door slowly opens but she doesn’t hear it close. She stands that way for awhile, staring straight into the kitchen and trying to process the numbness overtaking her. Robotically, Felicity turns around and almost expects Oliver to be standing there like nothing happened, but instead she finds her door firmly shut and Oliver already gone.

And a life without Oliver, which seemed impossible only a few minutes ago, is now a thing of reality.

* * *

Every curse word known to man rings through Oliver’s mind, and yet, it’s still not enough to fully capture what he’s feeling. There’s a mixture of anger, confusion and guilt all wrapped in one uncontrollable emotion ball. His hands shake as he walks down the street, and his vision blurs from rage and the fear of the unknown.

Tonight was an epic disaster, and he doesn’t know how it spiraled out of control so fast.

When he woke up this morning, Oliver had intended to strong-arm Isabel into letting Taiana go and hoped to go along his appointments as if nothing happened. Instead, Isabel showed him her true colors and it put him in a sour mood the rest of the day, which led him to completely ruin an appointment, and now apparently, destroy his friendship with Felicity.

He had been on edge all day – coming to Felicity’s was supposed to be his time to relax and be with a friend he hadn’t seen in forever. Yet, when he opened the door, he couldn’t put up a friendly front when he knew the poor girl hiding in his apartment would have to go back to prostitution. It plagued his mind the entire day, and no amount of good food and company could alleviate his dark thoughts.

Unfortunately, it was a _very_ big mistake to come over to Felicity’s since he wasn’t in the right mindset. When she had told him about her office drama, Oliver couldn’t help but be annoyed by the frivolousness of her drama. Her problems paled in comparison to his. Whether or not she wants to admit it, Felicity’s life is much easier. She’s not walking with her head peering over her shoulder, convinced she’s going to get caught, thrown in jail and have her face smeared in papers. Oliver lives his life like he’s got everything to lose, and it isn’t too far from the truth. He simply can’t relate to her anymore – in fact, he never did. Felicity was his escape into the real world and now it’s not enough.

Things took a turn for the worse when he found out Felicity might be joining Palmer Tech and has been keeping touch with Ray Palmer himself. There’s a large part of Oliver that feels betrayed – the entire time he thought Felicity was too busy with work to hang out with him, when instead she was cozying up to his biggest rival. She ditched him multiple times to be with an egotistical jerk, and Oliver can’t believe she expected him to be all right with the reveal. Not only did Ray take his family’s company, but also took Felicity from his side.

Well, Felicity was never really _his_ property to begin with – she’s her own, strong, independent person, but Oliver resents how smarmy Ray weaseled his way into their friendship and disrupted their delicate balance they spent hours working on. For so long it’s been _them_ and no one else. Oliver liked having just the two of them sitting together, watching movies and talking about silly things. It was light, easy, and gave Oliver something to look forward to.

Finding out about Ray made him inexplicably jealous and angry. He was tossed aside for a better, well-educated, rich version of himself, and Oliver’s deeply hurt by it. After hearing the news, Oliver couldn’t possibly pretend it didn’t affect him at all, when in fact he felt he’d been injected with a drug that magnified every bit of emotional pain he was already feeling.

Then of course, realizing if Felicity actually goes to Star City, it would mean she’d be gone from his life and makes his days lonely and pathetic as they were before he met her. And in his angry, jealous, betrayed, panicked state, Oliver essentially called Felicity a slut, couldn’t put his selfishness aside to be happy for her job prospects, and made the night a thousand times worse.

He could be a major asshole sometimes and tonight was no exception.

Despite what transpired tonight, Oliver _does_ want Felicity to have everything, and that includes a chief officer position at Palmer Tech. He wants her to succeed and become something that’ll reward her for her intellect and all the hard work she’s put into things.

And _God_ , he’s irrevocably in love with her – there’s no denying it. He loves the way she laughs, smiles, cares about other people, how passionate she can be, and how dedicated she is to make the world a better place. He knows when she’s upset she throws herself into work, loves fried food and hates heights. He loves her laugh and how her nose scrunches up in happiness. The world could go permanently dark and he would still be able to recall every inch of her glorious body, down to the last hair.

Loving Felicity made him forget how much he hated himself. But if he loves her that much, he needs to respect her decisions.

He almost turns around to run back to Felicity and apologize, but stops himself short. She had asked him to leave, and the one thing he can do right now is honor her request. He doesn’t want to end the night on a bad note, but he has to process everything that happened tonight. They’re both on edge right now – coming back would certainly make the situation worse.

Groaning in frustration, Oliver stops walking and takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He feels so agitated – his legs are shaking but he feels he could run all along Lake Shore without breaking a sweat. There’s been a fair share of Oliver Queen’s Best Fucked Up Moments, but he _knows_ he’s never fucked up this bad, and he wants to make right as fast as he can. Patience is never his strong suit, but he has to reel himself in for Felicity’s sake.

The buzzing in his pant pocket shakes him out of his dizzying thoughts, for which he’s thankful for. He doesn’t recognize the number but his gut tells him to answer the phone.

“Hello?” His voice cracks, and Oliver clears his throat to mask how tired and defeated he sounds.

“Is this Thomas Jones?”

His heart skips a beat because only a handful of people know his alias, and he doesn’t recognize this person’s voice. Straining his ear, he can tell the person is calling from someplace busy – there are phones ringing, people yelling, and there’s general chaos surrounding them.

It sounds like a hospital. And Oliver’s been to enough to know what an emergency room sounds like.

Without warning, his stomach drops to the floor and his throat closes up, making it harder for him to breathe. He can tell this isn’t a regular social call – something’s _very_ wrong.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Oliver breathes in deeply and tries not to convey how much he’s dreading this conversation. “Speaking.”

“Mr. Jones, this is Kathy speaking from Holy Cross Hospital.” She stops for a second and Oliver can hear some papers rustling. “I’m . . . very sorry to call you at an hour like this, but your brother is currently in the hospital.”

All the nervousness Oliver was feeling a minute ago suddenly disappears and is replaced by confusion. Oliver tries to think of someone who would know his Emerald alias, and why they would give his number to a hospital staff, but comes up short. Realizing this might be a long conversation, Oliver steps to the side and leans against the wall. The bricks poke through his jacket and gently stab into his shoulder blades, but he welcomes the pain.

“My . . . brother,” he replies in a half statement and question, hoping it prompts Kathy to tell him who has his number and escort name in the first place.

“Uh – Yeah. Roy Harper.”

_No_ _._

Everything Oliver’s been feeling and repressing – from tonight to the last eight years – tumble forth, causing him to crumble right on the sidewalk. His knees buckle beneath him and he tries to steady himself as he lands on the ground, not caring who’s walking past him and how much it hurts to be sitting on a pile of tiny rocks. His throat closes up and for a moment he feels he might vomit, but a chill washes over him and the feeling disappears.

In the back of his mind Oliver’s aware he’s in shock, but he feels separated from this world. His here but not really, much like how his existence is vast but empty.  A bout of dizziness hits him, and closing his eyes, Oliver takes several deep breaths to stop it from spiraling out of control.

He can’t go through this again. He can’t live his life knowing he didn’t get Roy out of his bad habits and being directly responsible for his . . .

The very thought of the word _death_ causes Oliver to dig his nails into his palms, and a series of images flash through his mind – his father’s dead and cold body, rotting two weeks after being halfway around the word, and his mother’s, lying on her back with arms wide open like a disgraced angel redeeming herself in the end.

Roy wasn’t supposed to turn out like this – he was supposed to be better and be _alive_. And it’s entirely Oliver’s fault.

He’s vaguely aware of the person asking if he’s on the line, and as he slowly comes back to his senses Oliver manages to croak out, “Y-yes.”

“Mr. Jones, I really do apologize for how I started the conversation, but you’re listed as his brother on his emergency contact information card found in his wallet –”

A flash of anxiousness hits him and he can’t bear the thought of having to listen to her talk. He needs to know _now_. “Yeah – I – how – ”

“He overdosed, Mr. Jones. “

_Please . . . Why couldn’t it have been anything but that?_

All Oliver can do is bow his head down in guilt and desperately try to hold his tears back. Ordering Roy around, lecturing and eventually shaming him for his behavior did absolutely nothing. Oliver should’ve kept Roy at his apartment, where he could keep an eye on him and prevent him from seeking out drugs that wouldn’t be readily available in Oliver’s neighborhood. If only Oliver had done more to save Roy from this fate, he would still be alive.

“But thankfully he was found in time. Your brother is a lucky man, Mr. Jones.”

_Roy’s alive. He’s not dead._

He repeats the mantra over and over again until it sinks into him that Roy’s is breathing and living. Once it does, the sheer amount of joy Oliver feels is immeasurable, and choking back a sob, Oliver buries his face in his hands to succumb himself to the feeling. His phone falls and shatters on the ground, but Oliver’s only aware of his chest nearly bursting from relief.

  
Life has a funny way of reminding people what’s at stake. And if tonight is any indication, Oliver knows it's time to fully appreciate the people in his life. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I MUST apologize for the major delay. I was pretty sick for almost a month, and I decided to rewrite more than half (5/6ths to be exact) of the chapter. Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Many thanks to [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller) for being an amazing editor and polishing my final work. And of course, this chapter wouldn't be what it is without [Mimi](http://the-mimi-hiddleston.tumblr.com/) for cheerleading me on on any given day, and for [Tammy](http://curvy-tam.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta! You guys rock. <3

For the second time this week, Oliver storms into Verdant and heads straight towards Isabel, not caring about the threats she made three days earlier. He’s been on edge ever since Roy’s overdose and Isabel’s insensitivity is pushing him past the point of return.

After getting the call from the hospital (and once Oliver managed to gather his wits), he raced straight to the hospital and waited with bated breath until doctors would finally allow him to see Roy. Seeing the younger man so small and pale, hooked on a number of machines brought a torrent of memories Oliver wished to forget. Oliver had wanted to run away from there as fast as he could – he couldn’t stand to see Roy in such a state, he couldn’t bear to see strong people become so frail- but Oliver knew Roy needed him t. So Oliver stayed by his side the entire night, reminding Roy he’s always there for him no matter what.

Despite surviving the overdose, the hospital wanted him to stay for the next couple of days to monitor him and do a psych evaluation. Knowing Roy needed him, Oliver cancelled his appointments and rescheduled the next few days at Jitters despite Roy’s protests. He also tried to take care of Roy’s clients and reassign them to other escorts, but once Isabel got a sniff of it all hell broke loose.

She wouldn’t stop calling Roy, and once Oliver told her about his condition, she actually _laughed_ and asked Oliver if he thought that was a good excuse. Isabel continued to cement herself as the worst person on earth by ordering Oliver to get Roy out of the hospital and make up for lost time, and more importantly, lost money. Despite Oliver telling her Roy was in no condition to work and the hospital wouldn’t let him go, she wouldn’t take no as an answer and demanded Roy get back to work. If Oliver didn’t hate her before, he definitely does now.  

So here he is, ready to go toe to toe with her again, and hoping she doesn’t murder him with her stilettos. Roy’s wellbeing is important to Oliver but having Isabel breathe down both their necks isn’t making matters any better.

When Isabel sees Oliver approaching, she rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue. “What did I say about interrupting me at the club?”

Curling his hand into a tight fist, Oliver grits out, “I don’t care.”

“Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” Isabel sizes him up. “If this is about Roy –”

“It is.”

“My word is final, Thomas.” Clicking her tongue once again, Isabel sings, “You should know that by now.”

That’s it – he’s had enough. Picking up an empty glass, Oliver angrily throws it across the room and jabs a finger at Isabel. His hand shakes after his reaction but he briefly noticed Isabel barely flinched at his outburst.

“Goddamn it Isabel, Roy _overdosed_ and all you’re worried about is how much money you’re losing? He only makes $500 an hour. That’s nothing!”

Isabel scoffs in disbelief and her eyes burn with anger. “Of course $500 is nothing . . . to _Oliver Queen_.”

_She knows._

Time suddenly stops – he’s only aware of his throat tightening up, as if a snake is slowly wrapping its scaly skin around his neck, and every other sensory feeling becomes heightened all at once. He’s keenly aware of physically taking a step back and how his legs have begun to wobble, but his mind is unable to comprehend Isabel knows who he really is.

Oliver had suspected for a while, but he chalked it up to his own paranoia and chose to ignore it. But considering how calmly Isabel is glaring at him, he wonders if she knew who he was the moment he bumped into her.

He’s aware he’s numb and going through shock, but does his best to control his emotions in front of Isabel. Swallowing thickly, Oliver attempts to not let Isabel’s haughty expression continue to catch him off guard.

Smirking, Isabel relaxes on the couch as if she has no care in the world. “Or should I say _was_ considering you lost all your money. I suppose after working for me for six years – or is it seven? – you’re finally able to get somewhat close to what was in your trust fund.”

Oliver can feel all the blood drain from his face, and he knows Isabel sees it to when she looks up at him and laughs softly. “But I’ll admit, I prefer _Thomas Jones_ since he helps me buy the latest Louboutin and occasional Charlotte Olympia whenever I want.”

The weight of Isabel’s words hit him like a ton of bricks, and his mind races to find a way to spin this conversation. Speechless and unable to ignore Isabel’s threat, Oliver merely raises his chin just a bit to show Isabel she hasn’t affected him as much as she thinks. Isabel simply smirks and raises an eyebrow, her arrogance tearing holes into Oliver’s damaged soul.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver assesses the situation as best as he can: Isabel clearly knows who he really is, she definitely plans on using it as blackmail, and thus, Oliver’s indebted to her for the foreseeable future.

Sighing, Isabel closes the books in front of her and crosses her slim legs, eyeing Oliver up and down as if in preparation to devour him. “I warned you not to cross me. You may be Emerald’s best escort, but that doesn’t mean you run the show.” Taking a sip of water, Isabel’s eyes narrow and she adds, “I won’t hesitate to leak this information out to the press if you bother me again.”

Realizing her threat could very well become a real one, Oliver attempts to downplay it in hopes of throwing her off. “Oliver Queen’s been irrelevant since 2009. You think people would care?”

“I know your sister will.”

For the second time since he got here he’s thrown off balance by Isabel’s words, and at this point he feels utterly helpless. She was always a step ahead of him the moment he signed on to become an escort, wasn’t she? A sinking feeling of resignation hits him and Oliver almost breaks down in front of Isabel. He’s an idiot for thinking he could go face to face with Isabel.

Yet something stops him from doing so – this past week has been a tumultuous rollercoaster, and his emotions have been all over the place. And typically, when Oliver feels trapped he stays in a corner he feels comfortable in, letting years pass by without moving a single inch.

Today is different. Oliver may be a lot of things, one of which may be a failure, but he will do whatever it takes to keep those he loves safe. Isabel may consider this a weakness – not too long ago Oliver would’ve thought the same – but times have changed. And with people counting on Oliver to make things right for them, he promises to make a difference one step at a time.

* * *

Felicity's apartment is in disarray – clothes are scattered everywhere, half of her kitchen supplies are sprawled out on the floor, and items she thought were permanently lost are reappearing left and right.

There's a reason why Felicity detests moving.

"I'm trying to find a way to make this move a little more organized for you, but I'm running out of ideas." Caitlin worriedly glances around her apartment and sighs. "I'm getting anxious just looking at this."

Felicity snorts. "Join the club."

"Maybe you should've worked one room at a time instead of dumping everything out at once?"

Sighing, Felicity simply puts her hands on her waist and pouts, because Caitlin is right and she doesn't know how to get herself out of this.

After her fight with Oliver (and crying for much of the night), Felicity called Ray the next morning and said she wanted to work at Palmer Tech. Ray was obviously excited, and once they finished their phone conversation, Felicity _finally_ walked right out of her toxic office without a care in the world. Of course, her fight with Oliver and not having an idea what the future held made Felicity anxious, but she was ready to take a leap forward and put the past behind her. Caitlin was naturally supportive, albeit sad Felicity was leaving, but she wanted the best for her.

In a mad rush to start over her life, Felicity began to throw everything out of closets, drawers, and cabinets – anything really. After spending three days gingerly walking around her apartment and not being able to see the floor, Felicity realizes how big of a mistake that was. She debates putting everything back to where it was and pack the right way, but the task is undeniably daunting.

Sighing once more, Felicity collapses on the couch, or what remains of it. "Maybe I shouldn't be so –”

A loud knock interrupts her, and she glances at Caitlin if she would know why someone is at the door. For a brief moment Felicity's heart leaps and she wonders if it's Oliver, but then she's reminded of their last encounter and doesn't want his presence to ruin her moving out weekend.

"Who is it?" Caitlin whispers.

Felicity considers ignoring it until there's another knock, softer this time. Curious, Felicity goes up to the door and peeks through the eyehole, only to find Oliver standing on the other side of the door.

 _What is he doing here?_ After their disastrous fight on Wednesday Felicity had, albeit childishly, intended to leave Oliver behind and never look back. She didn't think he would drop by anytime soon, and his presence here is throwing everything out of balance.

She regrets how things spiraled out of control on Wednesday, but their argument had seemed inevitable. They had been distant for awhile, with Felicity being busy with work and having to reschedule her hangouts with Oliver. Coupled with Oliver’s weird moods, she didn’t feel like being near him and having to decipher his feelings all the time. In hindsight, Felicity knows she should’ve been a little more collected, but there’s no going back. Things have changed between them for better or worse.

A small voice in the back of her mind wants her to let him in because there's a possibility Oliver's here to apologize. But Felicity's rational and angry side doesn't want to – she wants him to sweat it out and she feels inviting him in will only complicate her feelings about them.

Unfortunately, Caitlin's here and the longer Felicity doesn't open the door, the more suspicious she'll get. Gathering as much courage as she can, Felicity slowly opens the door and comes face to face with Oliver.

Felicity's stomach drops the moment he raises his head and soulfully looks at her – his eyes are puffy and bruised from lack of sleep, and all the color from his face has vanished. His clothes appear to be a few days old and he clearly hasn't shaved for a couple of days. Even though she promised herself not to get attached all over again, the sight is worrying her and she wonders if their argument might have been too difficult for him.

"Hey." His voice cracks and he clears his throat to cover up how tired he seems. Shoving his hands inside his pant pockets, he glances down at the floor and shifts his feet. "Do you mind if I come in?"

She's about to decline and ask him why he even thought it would be a good idea to come back here, but suddenly she hears Caitlin rummaging around and appear by her side. Before Felicity can say anything Caitlin offers, "I should leave.”

“Caitlin, you don’t have –”

But she’s already got her purse draped over and smiles softly while giving Felicity a knowing look. Pushing the door wide open, Caitlin comes face to face with Oliver and stops in her tracks. There’s no doubt Caitlin’s wondering why this hunk of a man is standing by Felicity's door, but she masks her curiosity and instead puts a comforting hand on Felicity’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

A little scared she has no backup, Felicity wordlessly lets Caitlin leave and tries not to overthink the situation. Now that she and Oliver are alone she has no excuse to brush him aside. In the back of her mind Felicity knows if she tells Oliver to leave her alone he’ll honor her wishes, but for some reason Felicity can’t go to Star City without getting closure.

“Come in, I guess.”

Oliver whispers a soft “Thank you” and gingerly steps into the apartment. His eyes widen at the sight of clothes, kitchen appliances and other items littered all around him, but she thinks nothing of it.

Needing some space, Felicity steps away from him and stands by the couch, unable to look Oliver in the eye. She’s not sure if she should immediately tell Oliver she plans on moving or wait for Oliver to apologize first.

“What’s . . . all this?” Gesturing at the floor, Oliver shoves his hands in his pocket and nervously stands by the door.

The awkwardness of this situation is making Felicity inexplicably sad – things were going so well and nothing was supposed to break them apart. Seeing how Oliver can’t feel like he’s at home almost causes her want to call Ray, quit her job at Star City, and stay in Chicago for as long as she can. Yet she knows she won’t do that, because Felicity loves herself enough to do what’s best for her. And moving to Star City is the right way to start.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity readies herself for the big reveal. Her decision to move is final, but after telling Oliver it’ll become permanent – there won’t be any going back.

“Oliver, I – I’m taking Ray’s offer and moving to Star City.”

“Oh. Wow.”

Felicity detects a hint of shock on Oliver’s face, but he quickly covers it up with a neutral expression. A flash of irritation hits her – he clearly hasn’t learned how to be happy for her since Wednesday. What’s the point of him coming here if he won’t fix his attitude towards her?

“You don’t sound too excited.”

“No, Felicity, I am.” His eyes soften under her steely gaze, and it takes every ounce of strength for Felicity to not jump in his arms. She wants to forgive him, but she’s still so angry about he said.

“I . . . want you to have everything.” Sighing, Oliver runs his hand through his hair then shakes his head. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to leave because of . . . me.”

She’ll admit, her decision to move so fast was partly due to their fight on Wednesday, but regardless, Hartley’s promotion guaranteed Felicity would be leaving Kord Industries sooner rather than later. There was no way Felicity would stay at Kord for another minute, especially since Ray had been vetting her for so long. Ultimately, her decision to leave was for Felicity Meghan Smoak only and no one else.

Felicity glances at the ground before peering at Oliver. “You know, not everything I do is a reaction to you.”

“I’m not expecting it to be.”

It’s quiet for a moment and Felicity has to physically stop herself from rambling out of nervousness. It’s so weird to see how far apart they are after one fight, and it’s tearing Felicity up from the inside. Three days ago they were such close friends and now . . . now they’re strangers.

Stepping forward, Oliver smiles gently and asks, “So you’re really moving?”

“Yeah.” Her heart is heavy but she has to do what’s best for her. “I think it’s time I leave.”

Oliver’s clearly taken aback by her decision, but he covers it up asking, “When?”

“On Wednesday I’m flying out to Star City to meet board members and chief officers, look at apartments, and then I’m . . . gone.”

Technically Felicity has three more months on the lease, but Caitlin’s helping her find someone to sublet. So far there’s one person who’s willing to move in ont short notice, but if that doesn’t work out, Felicity will have to pay rent for two places once she moves to Star City. She’s tempted to ask Oliver if he knows anyone who might want to sublet, but it feels weird asking him for a favor when things between are still on edge.

“Isn’t that a little fast?”

She can tell Oliver didn’t mean to let that slip, because he purses his lips and looks down at the floor in embarrassment. “I quit Kord without a two week’s notice and Ray wants me on board ASAP. I _have_ to move fast.”

Upon the mention of Ray, Oliver’s jaw clenches and any trace of acceptance is wiped away in an instant. Felicity almost groans out loud – what is up with him and Ray? After finding out Ray doesn’t personally know an Oliver, Felicity has to wonder what’s really bothering Oliver about him. It seems so long ago, but the first time Felicity mentioned Ray was before they started hanging out, so Oliver’s hostility toward Ray doesn’t necessarily stem from Felicity’s quasi-date with Ray. It has to be something else, but given Oliver’s inability to be honest with her, she has no idea what it is.

“Right.” Oliver’s back to being closed off and moody all over again, and Felicity’s patience begins to wear thin.

“Oliver, if you’re not going to apologize, maybe you can tell me why every time I mention Ray you get . . . angry face.” Felicity sees Oliver’s brow furrow in confusion, but underneath it call she suspects he knows _exactly_ what she’s referring to. “It’s driving me nuts.”

He doesn’t say a word – he simply gapes at her as tries to make up a believable excuse.

“Do you know him?” Felicity steps forward and looks at Oliver square in the eye. She’s sick of him skirting around the truth.

“No.”

He says it with such conviction that Felicity almost believes him, but she knows better.

“You don’t act like it.”

“I . . . don’t know him.”

Taking a deep breath, Felicity has to calm herself down before she snaps. “I might not know everything about you, but I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Felicity I – I _am_ honest with you.” Oliver shrugs and asks, “Why are you convinced I’m lying?”

“Really? Then what’s your last name?”

She’s a little surprised that was the first thing that came to mind, but it bothers her she doesn’t know something as simple as his last name. After being unable to tell Ray Oliver’s last name, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was yet another thing Felicity didn’t know about Oliver and it upset her. How could they be such good friends if she didn’t know such a small detail about him?

He’s obviously taken aback by her question – his eye wander around the apartment and he avoids looking at Felicity. She can tell he’s stalling and it infuriates her, because this most likely means he’s going to lie to her. _Again_.

After a couple of seconds Oliver says, “Jones.”

It’s tense for a minute as Felicity sizes Oliver up, shaking her head as she does so. “So you’re telling me you use your legal last name as your _escort_ last name?”

Oliver’s face pales once he realizes she’s got him trapped in a corner. “Y . . . yes.”

Rolling her eyes, Felicity sighs exasperatedly and tries to keep track of his lies. “Why would you purposely chose your legal last name as your escort one, when the whole point of having an alias is so no one can figure out the real you?”

“I – it was easier.”

“It was easier to not make up a last name,” she clarifies.

“Yeah.” Straightening his back, Oliver juts his chin forward and attempts to convey through body language that he’s confident in his answers.

But Felicity’s had enough. He keeps saying he wants what’s best for Felicity, yet what’s best for her sanity – and their friendship – is for Oliver to be honest. Getting him to admit the truth is like pulling teeth, and Felicity’s too smart for her own good to let this go. She has a gut feeling something’s not right, and this is a mystery that needs to be solved, even if it means hurting their fragile friendship.

Taking a deep breath and genuinely worried about what this question will bring, Felicity quietly asks, “Is Oliver your real name or is it Thomas?”

“Yes, Oliver is my real name!” Oliver’s eyes burn with intensity. “Why are you convinced I’m someone else?”

“I don’t know, because I hardly know a thing about you!” She hears Oliver scoff but she pushes through. “I’ve been nice enough to ignore it for the past few months, let alone _not_ hack into databases and find out exactly who you are, but now . . . I honestly don’t know _anything_ about you.”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver crosses his arms and clenches his jaw. “Thanks for respecting my privacy.” Upon realizing how harsh that sounded, Oliver swallows thickly and adds, “But Felicity, you do know –”

“I really don’t.”

She’s absolutely desperate at this point. A bout of anxiousness hits Felicity, and she wants to do a combination of screaming out in the void, pacing incessantly, or drowning herself in wine. _God_ , Felicity wants to tell and ask Oliver so many things: why he hates Ray, why he says he’s being supportive but not really, why their friendship is surface-level and a multitude of other things. Instead, the only thing she’s able to articulate is that she wants to know what Oliver’s real name is. She has so much to say to him but it’s getting buried underneath accusations. This isn’t how she planned for this to be.

“You’ve never asked.”

Focusing back on their argument at hand, Felicity grudgingly realizes he’s right. Not once did she ask questions about his personal life, but in her defense, she thought she was respecting his privacy and hoped he would open up to her in time. Instead, Oliver took it as an opportunity to keep Felicity at arm’s length, and now that she’s bringing up these questions, he’s doing everything he can to prevent her from learning more.

Accepting his challenge, Felicity asks, “Okay. So where are you from?”

For the second time this afternoon he’s taken aback, and his reaction shows Felicity he’s still not forthcoming of his past. “Like . . . where I was born?”

“What else would I be asking?” She’s dumbfounded by his answer and her attitude is out in full force.

His eyes flicker about and she spots him rubbing his index finger and thumb together, a nervous tick Felicity’s noticed about him. “I don’t know, something –”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“No, I’m not.”

She’s tempted to say something sarcastic, but her irritation and desire to know more outweighs her need to be rude.

“Then where. Were. You. _Born_?”

Without missing a beat Oliver calmly says, “Central City.”

But she knows better – his eyes briefly wandered and he continued to rub his fingers together as he lied through his teeth. And this knowledge makes Felicity powerless to stop herself from exploding.

“Goddamn it Oliver, you’re lying!”

Her eyes begin to prick with unshed tears of frustration – how hard can it be to tell the truth? Her mind spins with endless possibilities, and Felicity’s convinced herself Oliver might even be a hit man out to get her. Oliver’s refusal to tell her the truth is only making things worse, except she’s no better by egging him on. But Felicity has always searched for the truth no matter how ugly the consequences might be, and she’s not going to let this go anymore simply because Oliver’s involved. Perhaps a couple of days ago Felicity might’ve felt she could leave Chicago without solving the Oliver-but-not-really-Jones puzzle, but she can’t shake this off.

Oliver clenches his jaw and brings a hand up to his temple, no doubt as frustrated as she is. “What –”

“I can tell you are when you start looking everywhere else but me, and you won’t stop rubbing your _stupid_ fingers together!”

He seems genuinely surprised and slightly proud of Felicity for knowing such a minute detail. But he quickly masks his reaction because they’re in the middle of a fight and they’re both too stubborn to yield.

“Why is it such a big deal if you know where I’m from or what my last name is? And honestly, I don’t know anything about you either!” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air as he does so.

 _He’s an expert deflector_ , Felicity snidely thinks.

Scoffing, she begins to pace in whatever space she has left in her living room. “That’s rich.”

“I’m serious – I don’t know anything.”

A bubble of angry laughter comes forth – she’s opened up to him more than she has to anyone else. He knows the most intimate parts of her yet he has the audacity to say otherwise. The absurdness of his comment almost makes her want to leave her _own_ apartment in rage, but she soldiers on despite how frustrated she is.  

Bringing up a hand, Felicity starts counting all the ways Oliver knows her, making sure to put emphasis on every single item. “Let’s see, you know where I work, you’ve heard about my friends, you know I went to MIT, and you know I grew up in Las Vegas with a single parent. Oh, and you’ve seen me naked.”

A tiny flush creeps up on Oliver’s face – whether it’s from being proven wrong or recalling their dalliance, she doesn’t care. Oliver’s comment brings forth a flurry of emotions and she’s powerless to stop herself.

“What else do you want to know?”

“I –”

“Do you want to know my dad was – _is_ – a cyber terrorist and still on the FBI’s Most Wanted list?”

Her voice shakes and she steadies herself as she’s assaulted by images of the police coming to her door on a cold, windy night, her mother crying, and eventually realizing her father abandoned her. The resentment Felicity feels towards her father haunts her to this day, and ever since his abandonment she’s had a difficult time forming any meaningful relationship. But here she is, throwing every bit of companionship she has at Oliver and he won’t take it.

Another flash of anger hits Felicity, and she can’t stop herself from spilling another deep secret buried in the back of her mind. Fine – Oliver wants to know everything about her? She’ll give it to him.  

“Or better yet, do you want to know my boyfriend in college was arrested for hacking into the Department of Education and killed himself in prison?”

Her eyes well up in tears at the memory – she buried it deep and hoped to never open that door again, but these are unusual circumstances. Felicity had forgotten how much it hurt to hear when Cooper – her first love – died. Coupled with her father’s abandonment and Cooper’s untimely death, Felicity’s had a difficult time forming meaningful relationships, always afraid something would happen to them. Despite all of her anxieties, Felicity took the plunge and opened up to Oliver more than she had to anyone since Cooper.

And he basically spat it right back at her.

Regaining control of her emotions, she looks at Oliver square in the eye and grits through her teeth, “I’ve opened up to you – _literally_ as in you’ve seen my bare ass – and all I get in return is someone who can’t even tell me where they were born.”

There’s a moment where Oliver looks like he might just admit to everything, but his pride and desire to keep Felicity in the dark seems to convince him otherwise. Internally groaning at the new development, Felicity can only imagine what he’s going to say next and wonders how this meeting spiraled out of control.

“It’s not like you’ve introduced me to your friends before.”

 _That_ was certainly not expected.

Once again he’s avoiding telling Felicity the truth, but she’s so exhausted dancing around the truth that she decides to indulge him. “What do my friends have to do with this? And anyway, why would I introduce them to you?”

Most of Felicity’s friends are from work, and even then it’s not a large group to begin with. She’s always busy – she doesn’t have time to throw parties and go on long dinners during the weekends with anyone. And all of her friends are geekier than she is. Felicity doubts Oliver would actually enjoy their company, let alone understand what they’re saying 90 percent of the time. It would be a lose-lose situation for both of them, so his counter argument is _not_ valid.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I bet the reason you haven’t is because you probably don’t want to admit you have a _prostitute_ as a friend.”

Caught off guard, Felicity’s left speechless and doesn’t know how to respond. Oliver keeps his face expressionless, but he’s rubbing his fingers once more, and she can tell it really does bother him Felicity hasn’t introduced him to her friends. But the way he says prostitute . . . it’s as if he’s gathering every single bit of venom he has festering inside him and spitting it out with that word.

Felicity had her suspicions – she wondered whether Oliver really did enjoy being a prostitute, since he practically did everything he could to avoid talking about it. Yet, he continuously mentioned about how he had an easy schedule and made more money in an hour than people did in a month. Regardless, it was entirely possible Oliver didn’t enjoy being an escort any more than Felicity enjoyed playing second-class citizen at Kord, and she should’ve picked up on it.

Still, she’s a little hurt Oliver feels she’s _that_ intolerant towards him and others for being escorts. It’s a lifestyle he chose and one he’s worked hard at. She’s in no position to judge him because Felicity’s done her fair share of questionable things, too. And besides, they’re not in a physical, romantic relationship – who he sleeps with, whether he’s paid for it or not, is none of her concern.

“That’s not true,” she protests.

“It’s not?” Now it’s his turn to scoff, and he does so with a generous amount of disdain. “Then why haven’t I met them?”

Felicity feels herself getting defensive now, although she feels she has no reason to be.

“Because. I didn’t think I had to.”

It’s quiet for a minute as Oliver examines her, but as seconds pass she feels herself flushing under his gaze. It’s stupid – Felicity shouldn’t be feeling guilty for not introducing Oliver to her friends, yet . . . Glancing up at Oliver, his eyes narrow in contemplation and she spots the exact moment he’s done playing nice.

 _Frack_.

“So I was right – you _are_ ashamed of me.”

His voice wavers and he glances down at the ground, causing Felicity’s heart to break into a thousand pieces. God, she never meant to make him feel less of a person because of his job. She just – what they had was between them _only_ , and she didn’t want anyone else privy to their relationship. She looked forward to every Sunday and Wednesday night with him – Oliver _has_ to know how much those hangouts meant to her. The moment reality touched their bubble is when it would come crashing down, and she didn’t want their perfect circle ruined.

In the back of her mind she knows Oliver and their friendship would never be accepted in the real world. If word got out that Felicity was best friends with a prostitute, a friend she had once paid to have sex with . . . her career would be over. And all this time, Felicity unconsciously chose to keep their friendship a secret because it didn’t benefit her to make it public. Felicity never thought how her selfishness actually made things worse between them, but it really did and the guilt is beginning to take over her.

“No, I’m not –”

“Then why haven’t you introduced me yet?” he fumes. “What about the girl who was just here? Why didn’t you say anything then?”

An intense feeling of guilt washes over Felicity, and she’s powerless to stop herself wallowing in self-hatred. She could chalk up to not introducing Oliver to Caitlin by being so frazzled by the move and her fight with Oliver that she forgot to do so, but it wouldn’t be the truth.  And she shouldn’t skirt around the truth when she’s asking Oliver to do the opposite. It would make her hypocritical.  

“Fine.” Swallowing thickly, Felicity then takes a deep breath to calm her nerves, and admit to herself how much of a wretched person she is. After collecting herself, she looks at Oliver square in the eye and confesses, “I haven’t told anyone about you because I’m not sure how to tell them you’re a friend I paid to have sex with.”

There’s a sense of disappointment in his eyes, and Felicity’s feels absolutely disgusted with herself. He’s right – she _is_ ashamed of being associated with Oliver. She’s more worried about what her colleagues think and how their judgments will damage their friendship, instead of realizing that keeping a distance between Oliver and her professional life hurt Oliver. Although Felicity doesn’t judge Oliver for being a prostitute, her friends might not be so welcoming, and she doesn’t want their judgments to put a cloud over their friendship.

Her selfishness got in the way of something better, and she’ll never be able to forgive herself for it.

The air is nothing short of stifling hot, and it gets harder and harder for Felicity to breathe. For a moment there’s an out of body experience for her – she knows she’s panicking and on the verge of something, but the sane part of her mind is screaming at her to keep a tight lid on her emotions until it’s time to let go. She’s at war with herself and the cowardly part of her wishes all of this could be easily resolved.

Oliver’s silent as he digests her confession, but she spots how his shoulders have contracted and his jaw won’t stop clenching. There’s no doubt he’s angry and wounded by her words, but his eyes are so melancholy that it pains Felicity to even look at him.

“Just admit it, Felicity. I promise it won’t hurt.”

God, his voice is _so_ broken and small. Amidst all the accusations and fighting, he’s desperately trying to keep it all together, and Felicity wants nothing but to give him a hug.

Without thinking, Felicity steps forward and reaches out for Oliver, but he steps back instead. The action causes her chest to pinch painfully in rejection, and she tries to swallow the feeling away but with no avail.

“I – I just know you won’t be accepted, and I didn’t want that to hurt you.” Oliver shakes his head as he glances away, and Felicity’s positive there’s nothing she can say to make this better. “And I’m _so_ sorry for not introducing you to my friends and keeping our friendship in a bubble, but please – _please_ – know _I’m_ not ashamed of you being an escort.”

He presses his fingers against his temple and takes a deep breath. “Maybe you should get more tolerant friends, that way you won’t have to hide me like a dirty secret.”

“You’re _not_ a dirty secret,” she pleads vehemently. “And you’re right, I need more tolerant friends, but you’re also being unreasonable. I’m not going to dump everyone I know for _one_ person.”

“One person – ”

“And Oliver you – you’re so secretive and reclusive.” Throwing her hands in the air, Felicity shakes her head and tries to find a way to say this without completely alienating Oliver. “How are you going to carry on a conversation with my friends when you’ve made no effort to get to know me besides the basics?”

He laughs humorlessly and he begins to pace, no doubt agitated their argument has lasted this long. “ _Now_ look who’s lying.”

“But you know I’m right!” There’s a hint of desperation in her voice and she can no longer hide it from Oliver. This is it – she’s so close to exploding. She can feel it shaking in her bones, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

“All you want to do is talk about _my_ work – we never talk about yours – watch movies, cook food and that’s it!”

“Why the _fuck_ do you want to know every detail about me?” Oliver roars. This is the first time he’s ever raised his voice in front of her, and he immediately looks guilty for doing so. Yet instead of backing down, it spurs Felicity on, and now she _knows_ there’s no going back.

“Because I care . . . about you!”

Her breath catches in her throat, and she doesn’t miss the way Oliver’s expression changes from anger to shock in a second. Maybe Felicity’s in love with Oliver or perhaps not, but she cares about him more than anyone else. His secrets and lies hurt her in more ways than one – she expected him to be the last person on earth to treat her like a stranger. He needs to know how frustrated she is, and this is her chance to let him know once and for all.

“I would let this go if your humongous secret didn’t actually impact me, but it does! How can you not see that?” Felicity cries. “It’s hurting our fri–friendship and you keep making it worse by not saying anything! And I need to know why it’s so hard for you to be happy for me – not just saying it, but acting like you really are – and what your last name is, and why you hate Ray because it’s all tied together! Every question I ever had would be answered and this could be all over if you told me the truth!”

* * *

When Oliver decided to drop by Felicity’s apartment and apologize, he was not prepared for Felicity telling him she’s leaving Star City for good and another argument.

But he should’ve known better.

Ever since Oliver moved to Chicago, he’s been actively pushing the past behind him. He threw himself into his (illegal) work, made sure Thea never came to Chicago and continued to believe Oliver was a consultant working odd jobs, and did his best to forget how pathetic his life had become. He was fortunate enough to not be treated as horribly as the other escorts, but his line of work made it difficult to have any sort of social life. And besides, one look at Oliver pre-beard and people would’ve figured him out.

So he crafted an impenetrable wall surrounded by darkness, and never let anyone come near him no matter how hard they tried.

Then he met Felicity and . . . She was kind, welcoming, charming, funny, and eventually became the only person who could put a smile on his face. And he did the one thing he vowed to never do: let someone into his carefully constructed fantasy.

He told her his actual name, invited her to his home and had his first real friendship since leaving Star City. It was perfect – they had a routine and it made things much less complicated for him. With Felicity he could be an escort _and_ Oliver. He trusted her because they met each other at their most shameful – and perhaps enjoyable – moment, and it was an experience which would forever tie them together.

Yet he held things back, because Oliver Queen is no longer in the picture and Oliver Jones is an escort who’s friends with Felicity Smoak. It was all that mattered.

He’s still Oliver but no longer a Queen. But it wasn’t enough for Felicity.

Oliver should’ve known his lies and past would catch up to him. When he found out Ray had weaseled his way into their perfect little bubble he should’ve seen it as a sign. Fate was warning Oliver to stop denying his past ever existed, but in typical Oliver fashion, he chose to ignore it. And he destroyed the one good thing to come out the absolute _hell_ he endured eight years ago.

After all the accusations and yelling, Oliver _now_ understands what Felicity wants from him, and it’s the one thing he’s been avoiding for so many years. He had hoped he would never have to open his personal can of worms, but these are unusual circumstances, and after hearing how much Felicity cares for him . . .

Everything Felicity said about him was true: He purposely doesn’t speak about his job because he’d rather listen to her office drama than discuss how Taiana was almost raped, or how Roy overdosed on prescription meds because he wasn’t there for him. Oliver’s an uneducated failure who is ashamed of being an escort, and he doesn’t want to tell Felicity’s he’s Oliver Queen since it’ll make her pity him.

And most of all, Oliver’s cowardly self didn’t want to expose Felicity to his world because she’ll never be able to understand, and he wanted to separate his work life from his personal one for his own benefit.

There are so many things holding him back. The truth physically won’t come out of him because he’s been repressing it for so long, and he’s worried the moment he admits how badly he and his family fucked up, it’ll all amount to nothing. There’s no point in looking back at his past if it only brings pain and misery, but this is Felicity, and she means more to him than anyone in the world.

Closing his eyes and letting himself be swept away by an overwhelming sense of numbness and acceptance, Oliver _finally_ decides to do the right thing, no matter the consequences.

“I . . . My name – my _real_ one – is Oliver . . . Queen.”

The air is palpable with tension, questions and unsaid words, and Oliver’s mouth goes dry with trepidation. Upon glancing at Felicity, she’s clearly in shock and he can practically see the gears running in her head. Exposed and at his most vulnerable moment, Oliver stands still and waits for Felicity to register the magnitude of his reveal, his legs shaking in nervousness.  

“I – I don’t understand . . .”

Her voice cracks while her eyes carefully watch Oliver, but he can spot the exact moment she _does_ understand. His chest painfully contracts knowing this might forever ruin things between them, but there’s no going back. Memories – good and bad – assault his mind, and he’s powerless to prevent his eyes from welling up in tears. He remembers _everything_ now.

“When my mother lost Queen Consolidated, we lost . . . everything. Our savings, the house . . . It was hard.”

Swallowing thickly, Oliver tries to push back against the bitter memories of watching his mother and Thea sitting helplessly in front of their door, unsure of where they’ll be by tomorrow with no money and no home. His legs are wobbly and he needs to hold onto something tight, but there’s nothing there except his lies desperately holding onto him before they’re all gone.

“And then my mom . . . died and I didn’t – I couldn’t support me and my sister. I’d dropped out of _four_ colleges and didn’t have any real work experience.”

Shaking his head, his face flushes in embarrassment – he had so many opportunities as a Queen and instead he threw it all away, never realizing he could lose everything in a blink of an eye.

He remembers going to his father’s many known associates and asking – _begging_ – for any position, whether it be a secretary or unpaid intern. They made him fall to his knees and grovel, only to turn him away for their own enjoyment. His skin burns with deep seeded anger and in humiliation, and he closes his eyes, trying to push those feelings away once more.

“It was . . . so _hard_ to find a job, Felicity. Nobody wanted me.”

After he was humiliated multiple times, Oliver put Thea under Malcolm Merlyn’s care, knowing Malcolm would ensure she had a proper education and a safe home to stay in. Tommy, Malcolm Merlyn’s son and Oliver’s best friend at the time, cared deeply for Thea and promised to protect her while Oliver was away. It shamed Oliver to ask the Merlyns for such a big favor, but he trusted them to keep Thea safe and knew they wouldn’t let him down. And most of all, he needed them to shield Thea from how desperate the situation had become for Oliver.

“So I came to Chicago and . . . I met Isabel. And that was it.”

Closing his eyes once more, Oliver takes a deep breath and realizes just how weightless he feels after spilling the truth. The shame, guilt and overall numbness has disappeared, and he waits with baited breath to hear what Felicity has to say. He feels hopeful – perhaps they can move on from this and become even closer than they were before. Taking a quick peek at Felicity, he sees her stoically looking back at Oliver, her expressionless face making Oliver more nervous by the second.

Her face crumbles in despair, and it’s when Oliver’s heart breaks into a million pieces. He can see it plain as day, as Felicity’s eyes well up in unshed tears, that he hurt her so much by keeping this secret from her. Eager to make her feel better, he steps forward and reaches out for her, except this time she’s the one to step back, her hand signaling him to stop. Rejected, Oliver takes a deep breath and tries to fix the situation as best as he can.

“I never really knew you at all, did I?”

“Y-yes you do, Felicity,” he says with a hint of desperation. “You know I like –”

Felicity presses her mouth in a hard line. “Let me rephrase: I knew _Thomas_ _Jones_. But I never knew _Oliver Queen_.”

There’s a part of him ready to tell her she’s absolutely wrong, but in the back of his mind Oliver can see there’s some truth to it. He showed a carefully constructed version of himself, just enough to make himself and Felicity happy, but enough to keep her away from the deepest parts of his mind.

But despite not knowing Oliver _Queen_ , she really does know Oliver – the _real_ Oliver. The Oliver who has a budget and doesn’t spend his money frivolously, unlike before. The Oliver who genuinely loves to cook, and hopes to one day do something with it. The Oliver who believes _Die Hard_ is the best Christmas movie, but only beating _Home Alone_ by a smidgen.

She knows who he is, just not every dirty secret.

“Felicity . . .” he whispers, unsure of how to fix this. He’s at a loss for words and can only pathetically stare at Felicity, hoping she can see how sorry he is.

“Do you know Ray Palmer?”

The abrupt and random question throws him off guard, and he considers ignoring the question until he distinctly remembers Felicity asking him why he dislikes Ray. If it’ll make her feel better to tell her the truth, he’ll do so. Taking a deep breath Oliver manages to grit out, “No.”

“Then why do you hate him so much?” Crossing her arms, Felicity glares at him with steely eyes. Oliver begins to feel a little defensive, although he’s in no position to do so.  

Clenching his jaw, he closes his right hand into a fist as he remembers reading _The Times_ and seeing Ray’s smarmy face plastered all over it once he acquired QC. Oliver hasn’t forgotten how in the subsequent months after the acquisition, Ray routinely made a show of how different he was, and continued to slander the Queen family name.

“He . . . bought out QC from my family.”

Scoffing, Felicity looks around the room and shakes her head. “That’s it?” she asks, her voice laced with chagrin. There’s no doubt Felicity thinks Oliver’s reasoning for hating Ray is a joke, but she doesn’t understand what continued slander – whether it’s in tabloids or coming from the mouths of rich dicks like Ray – does to a person’s self-worth.

“No that’s not it,” Oliver snaps. “He – he took my _future_ away from me. _I’m_ supposed to be Ray. _I’m_ supposed to be CEO of QC . . . not him.”

The bitter taste of reality sours his mouth as he recalls spending nights wondering what he would do as CEO of QC, instead of being an escort whoring himself multiple times a day. If things were different – if Oliver had just paid attention, gone to college, and assisted his mother during her business dealings – maybe he wouldn’t be in the situation he’s in now. Watching Palmer Tech become one of the most profitable companies year after year only caused Oliver to swim deeper in envy and has-beens.

“Oliver, I think it’s time you stop blaming other people for your problems.”

Her flippant statement angers Oliver, and he grinds his teeth as he tries to collect himself. It’s obvious Felicity doesn’t understand how difficult it’s been for him – to lose everything in a blink of an eye is such a jarring experience that it makes it difficult to move on. And suspiciously enough, Ray swooped in the moment QC’s stocks fell, as if he knew all along what was going to happen. The circumstances are highly coincidental, and Oliver would be an idiot to not think otherwise.

Inhaling deeply, Oliver shakes his head and attempts to explain. “No offense Felicity, but you don’t know –”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Oliver realizes he’s losing Felicity every second that passes by, and there’s not much he can do to stop it. Her eyes watch him like a hawk but she’s guarded – her shoulders have contracted and she’s crossed her arms, hugging herself tight and no doubt feeling very alone.

Stepping forward, Oliver reaches out for Felicity once more but she doesn’t accept it. Sighing, Oliver shakes his head and pleads, “I can – _will_ – tell you everything, right here, right now.”

Taking a deep breath, Felicity glances down at the ground and stays that way for a moment. It seems as if she’s debating to know more about him, which is odd considering Felicity said she wanted to know the truth. Her silence makes him feel extremely anxious – their friendship is slipping through the cracks and Oliver’s unsure if he’ll be able to salvage it.

“But you never really planned on telling me the truth, did you?” she asks quietly.

Felicity looks so small and tortured, standing in her corner of the living room, no doubt devastated by his actions. Feeling nothing but guilt, Oliver wishes he could go back in time and not meet Felicity on that fated appointment. This turned out to be much more complicated than he asked for, and he wishes he was never given an opportunity to upset Felicity like this.  

As if sensing Oliver’s war with himself, Felicity solemnly looks up at Oliver and chews on her lip, their argument getting to her fragile state. “I should’ve known better.”

Oliver frantically tries to find a way to keep this from exploding even more. “Felicity, I was going to . . .”

“When?” Felicity cries. Throwing her hands in the air Felicity’s eyes begin to shed tears but she angrily brushes them away, while Oliver’s chest constricts in pain. _He_ did this to her – _he_ made her feel she wasn’t worthy of his friendship. There’s no one else to blame but him, and it kills him to see her like this.

“All this time . . . I thought you didn’t want me to move to Star City because you were jealous of me or – or just didn’t want me to leave because of – never mind – but . . . you never _trusted_ me to tell me the truth.”

“That’s not true, Felicity,” he says vehemently. He would’ve told her when the time was right, considering things were distant between them for the past month.  

“Your actions speak otherwise, Oliver.” Placing a hand against her forehead, Felicity uses the other hand to point at him. “You made me believe this . . . _version_ of you. How can you call that a friendship?”

He’s at a loss for words and attempts to wrap his head around Felicity’s statement. There’s no version of Oliver – there are simply things he withheld due to his cowardice. And despite telling Felicity the truth, it isn’t enough to fix things between them. Oliver’s heart sinks in resignation and he realizes just how ruined things have become.

“This didn’t change anything, did it?”

“Actually it did.” Glancing away from him, Felicity inhales deeply and softly says, “Now I know you were lying to me the whole time and never thought I was important enough to know the truth.”

“ _Felicity_ _. . .”_

There’s no possible way he can show Felicity how much she means to him. Without her infectious smile and optimism, he would be nothing but a washed up has-been clinging onto what ifs. For the first time in seven years, she gave him an opportunity to feel something other than complete numbness and denial. Her guiding light gave him a chance to live month by month, instead of appointment by appointment.

Oliver can’t put into words the love he feels for Felicity. It’s so strong – it makes him anxious, nervous and happy all at once. It makes him want to shout in delirium, to smile until his lips are exhausted from doing so, and to desire a future with her.

She’s everything to him.

“I’m an escape for you, aren’t I? Just someone who makes you feel better and that’s it?”

Uncrossing her arms, Felicity’s eyes harden and any trace of warmth left in her disappears. A hint of panic begins to form in Oliver’s body and he doesn’t know how to tell Felicity she’s utterly wrong about being an escape. He knows anything he says won’t change her mind and it’s _killing_ him.

Felicity is a reality. Felicity is a _home_ to him.

“ _No_.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me the truth!” she despairs as a fresh batch of tears land on her cheeks.

Seeing her devastated by his reveal forces Oliver to frantically search for the right words to explain his stupid decisions, but he fails miserably. How can he articulate that he was scared of getting attached to someone, only to lose them in a freak accident? How can he say how much it aches to see how his life has changed, and that he wasn’t jealous of Felicity’s accomplishments, but instead of how Ray is everything he wishes he could be? How can even begin to talk about how much it shames him to be an escort?

Instead he mumbles, “I . . . don’t . . . It’s complicated” and immediately regrets doing so.

“God Oliver, you are the _only_ person on earth who considers the truth complicated!” Felicity cries. Regaining control of her emotions, she scoffs then looks up at the ceiling before she looks back down at him and jabs a finger at Oliver.

“Admit it: _you_ just didn’t want to face the truth. You used me to sustain a fantasy.”

Placing his fingers against the temples of his forehead, Oliver breathes in deeply to gather his thoughts but with no avail. Agitation seeps into his bones – he’s beginning to know what helplessness feels like. He wants to scream and shout, and wishes time could freeze so he can stop this from spiraling out of control.   

“Felicity – Jesus – I never _used_ you. You’re . . . Felicity, you’re the closest thing to a home I can remember having.”

Of all the things he’s denied or admitted this afternoon, that is one truth he will forever stand by. Felicity _must_ know he would never think of her like that. It aches to know Felicity feels this way, and there’s no one else to blame but him.

It’s quiet for a moment as Felicity tiredly closes her eyes, while Oliver’s heart thunderously beats beneath his chest. He’s never felt this uninhibited before – it’s as if a high tide is about to engulf him, but it patiently waits until it’s time to strike. The inevitable is torturing him.

Slowly opening her eyes, Felicity’s eyes shine with sadness and he just _knows_ her final decision has been made.

“A . . . _home_ that’s moving to Star City.”

An overwhelming feeling of numbness takes hold of him. It’s different from when he lost his parents, his home and his money. He felt fear back then, but right now he feels nothing but disappointment mixed in with a sense of failure. So many things went wrong to where he doesn’t know at which point it all started to crumble. In the following hours and days, Oliver will dissect everything about this argument and all the times they’ve spent, but no matter how hard he tries, he’ll know this was the inevitable end.

He failed their friendship.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Felicity.”

Refusing to look at him Felicity whispers, “Yeah, well, so am I.”

Although they’re not standing far away, it’s as if they’re thousands of miles apart. With each passing second, Felicity’s presence gets smaller and smaller until she’s nothing but a dot in the horizon. With a sinking realization, Oliver knows he’s lost her forever.

“I ruined everything, didn’t I?”

Only a couple of hours ago he promised to do whatever it took to protect those he loved. He thought it meant fighting for them, staying by their side until they’re ready to go on their own. But for Felicity it means something different – it means letting her go. He respects and loves her too much to drag her down with his failures. Felicity deserves to go to Star City to make a real difference, and Oliver won’t stop her.

With a heavy heart, Oliver savors one last look at Felicity, drinking in her tear-streaked face with her hair piled up in a sloppy bun. Oliver’s heart aches knowing this will be the last time he’ll see her – he wishes their goodbye could have happened under better circumstances.

“I . . . Good luck at Palmer Tech, Felicity. I mean it.”

A strangled sob escapes Oliver and he quickly looks away, unable to face Felicity one more time. His vision blurs and he’s vaguely aware of Felicity turning away, no doubt overwhelmed by her emotions as much as he is. Despite his body shaking, Oliver manages to turn and face the door; his hand gently pressing against the handle and loathe to open it.

He stays there for a minute, hoping for a miracle that will give him an opportunity to make things better between them. But Oliver knows better, and when it’s time to say goodbye there’s no way to stop it.

It doesn’t feel like a new chapter in his life is starting – it feels like he’s going back to Point A, back to who he was before he met Felicity. But the memories will stay and they’ll haunt him forever. It’ll ache to think about Felicity’s smile and her laughter, and the first time she came to his apartment and burned all the food. It’ll bring a twinge to his heart, reminding him of what could’ve been.

With a shaky breath, Oliver twists the doorknob and steps out of Felicity’s apartment, effectively severing ties with the one person who brought him happiness. He’s hit with an intense amount of dread, nervousness and helplessness, but soldiers on as he softly shuts the door behind him. For a moment Oliver considers opening the door again and to beg for Felicity’s forgiveness, but it would be pointless.

It’s time to let go, he finally admits to himself. And to his chagrin he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a couple of things: yes, they had another fight, and yes, it will be resolved. I want to stress how important it is for me to make this story as realistic as possible. I can't - won't - have them kiss and make up for the sake of kissing and making up. I know some of you have gotten frustrated in the past, but please remember the story isn't over.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you all for the comments, I really appreciate it! I promise things will start looking up, so hang in there.
> 
> Of course, many thanks to [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller) for helping me even when she's hella busy, [Tammy](http://curvy-tam.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta, and [Mimi](http://the-mimi-hiddleston.tumblr.com/) for cheerleading me on every day! Thanks guys <3

_ Five months later _

The day is bright and warm – everyone seems to be outside and enjoying the day as well, despite it being a Monday. Oliver dodges a few construction workers before entering Verdant, giddy for his meeting with Isabel. Seeing Isabel is by no means the highlight of his day, but he’s been working on something for the past few months and today is the day to show it off.

A few months ago when Oliver’s world started falling apart –  _ again _ – he vowed to destroy Isabel, but he hadn’t had the faintest idea how. After Felicity left, Oliver focused his attention on Roy and Taiana, and tried to find a way to get them free.

_ The duffle bag is heavy and his grip tightens as he walks through the hospital’s hallways, worried people will know what’s inside. Once Oliver reaches Roy’s room, he knocks and slowly enters, finding Roy wearing the clothes Oliver had fetched from the younger man’s apartment and folding his hospital clothes in a bag. He looks good, better even, and Oliver’s chest warms with relief. _

_ “Hey Oliver,” Roy greets with a tired smile. It seems after talking to a hospital psychiatrist Roy is in better spirits. Oliver hopes Roy will continue seeking help when he needs it, and wants him to start a brand new life away from Isabel’s grasp. _

_ “Hey.” Stepping forward and shutting the door behind him, Oliver gently drops the bag on his bed and sternly looks at Roy. He sees so much of himself in Roy – a damaged, lonely soul searching for something that’ll bring ease into his life. Oliver still feels extremely guilty for not being there for Roy, but he’s doing all that he can to make up for it. _

_ “Has Isabel called you?” _

_ “About a hundred times, yeah.” Scoffing, Roy finishes up folding his clothes and sits on the bed, his glum and terrified expression reminding Oliver why he needs to do what he set out to do. _

_ “Listen closely, Roy.” Roy’s eyes widen slightly as Oliver points to the bag. “There’s eighteen thousand dollars in here – all cash. I’ve already got you a one-way train ticket to Star City, and I’ve packed some of your stuff from your apartment.” _

_ Producing the ticket from his pocket, he hands it off to Roy who only gapes at it, unsure of what’s going on. “What . . . why?” _

_ A lump forms in Oliver’s throat and he swallows it, his emotions getting the better of him. Oliver’s never been good with expressing his feelings, and he needs to show Roy this is a dire situation. If Roy doesn’t take this chance, he’ll be stuck in Chicago forever under Isabel’s grasp. _

_ “Isabel’s not going to stop. She’ll . . . make things worse for you. And I can’t let her do that to you.” _

_ Inhaling deeply, Oliver gently looks at Roy and hopes to convey how much he cares for him. “I should’ve been there for –” _

_ “Oliver, stop it.” Roy steps forward, his eyes shining as he does so. “You told me not to get involved with . . . that. I didn’t listen. It’s my fault. But what you’ve done for me – what you’re doing for me  _ **_now_ ** _ – I don’t think I can repay you.” _

_ Shaking his head, Oliver smiles softly and puts a reassuring hand on Roy’s shoulder. “You never have to thank me.” _

_ And he means it. _

_ Nodding slowly, Roy takes a long look at his ticket then glances at the bag. “What should I do with all this money?” _

_ He sounds so unsure of himself, and Oliver’s powerless to stop himself from dropping a piece of information that can possibly blow Oliver’s cover. But Roy needs his help, and Oliver will do whatever is necessary to get him to safety. _

_ “First thing you do when you get off is go straight to a nightclub called Nightwing. When you get there, ask for the owner of the club – his name’s Tommy Merlyn.” _

_ His throat tightens as he remembers how great of a friend Tommy was, and instead of saying thank you, Oliver stopped all contact with him due to shame. Oliver hopes Tommy won’t hate him for dropping off the face of the earth and sending a former prostitute to him. _

_ “He’ll ask how you know him, so when he does say . . . Ollie sent you. He’ll know what you’re talking about.” _

_ Roy nods solemnly and for the first time in forever, Oliver feels like he’s done the right thing. _

_ It feels good. _

Now that Roy’s been long gone, Oliver set his sights on protecting Taiana any way he could. It was much easier to get Roy to safety, but Taiana was another matter altogether. Much to his surprise, she had connections with the Russian mob called Bratva, and after some digging, Oliver realized Isabel Rochev wasn’t on the Bratva’s list of favorite people. The information allowed Oliver to exploit the Bratva’s hatred against Isabel to help Taiana leave Emerald.

But as Oliver began to do some digging, protecting Taiana became about protecting  _ every _ escort under Isabel’s thumb. He didn’t realize how bad some of the conditions were, and as he began to uncover how horrible it was, Oliver decided he had to do something for them as well.

It was a daunting task considering Isabel knows Oliver’s real identity, but he vowed to protect those he cares about. No one – not even Isabel – will get in the way.

And here he is, stepping into Verdant for the very last time as Isabel’s pawn. Despite having everything set in place, Oliver’s slightly nervous and he’s worried the plan he set in place might not happen the way he wants it to. He’s practically memorized every bit of it – if something goes wrong he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

As Oliver approaches Isabel, he can tell she’s irritated as she flips her pen back and forth and keeps fidgeting as she writes inside her books. Once Oliver’s near her, she looks up at him in frustration and huffs, “Why haven’t any of the escorts shown up for their meeting?”

“Because I told them to stay at home.”

Scoffing, Isabel sizes him and Oliver readies himself for the big showdown, making sure he shoves his hands inside his pockets to prevent himself from rubbing his fingers. He doesn’t want Isabel to know under  _ any _ circumstances he’s nervous. He has to be strong. 

“And why would you do that?”

An overwhelming feeling of glee courses through Oliver – seeing Isabel’s shocked face has given him the confidence he’s needed since this morning. “Did you know Taiana has connections to the Russian mob?”

He spots the exact moment all the blood drains from Isabel’s face, but she quickly masks her expression by raising an eyebrow, silently challenging him. “And?”

“ _ And _ it turns out you’re not very popular with the Bratva.”

It didn’t take long for Oliver to find out Isabel was more or less kicked out of Russia and illegally moved to America in an effort to escape the Bratva’s wrath. After changing her last name and settling in Chicago, she managed to throw the Bratva off her trail . . . until Oliver came along. And once the mob found out how Taiana was being treated by Isabel, they wanted nothing but revenge on Isabel, to which Oliver was happy to oblige.

Oliver has to give her credit where credit’s due – Isabel’s careful not to show him how affected she is by his knowledge. But that’ll change soon enough.

“I learned a thing or two from them, like where you keep all the money you collect from us . . .”

“Liar!”

Isabel’s on her feet and glaring at Oliver with such intensity he genuinely fears her for a moment. Her thin lips quiver and he just  _ knows _ he’s got her trapped in a corner. The knowledge makes Oliver giddy with joy and he smugly watches Isabel, his excitement increasing with every passing second.

Stepping forward, Oliver looks at Isabel square in the eyes and relishes every moment she loses control. “I have all the money you ever had until now. And I’ve erased every trace of Emerald’s escorts having worked for you.”

“I still have one master file that can easily destroy  _ all _ of you.” Believing she’s finally bested him, Isabel crosses her arms and challenges Oliver.

Oliver shrugs nonchalantly. “But . . . I have that too.”

Once Oliver realized he had an ally to take down Isabel, he immediately started researching and getting back on Isabel’s good graces to throw her off his trail. Unbeknownst to Isabel, some days he would clear his schedule and spend his time following Isabel, watching her every move. In a few months, he found out Isabel’s schedule and realized she never changed it. Every morning she would go to Verdant, spend the next three to four hours there, and do a variation of shopping and working her way up the social ladder. She had no friends, no family, and lived a relatively lonely existence.

Not that he pitied or cared for her.

But perhaps the best piece of information was when he found out where Isabel deposited her money. There was a bank on the west side of Chicago with an employee who was obviously in Isabel’s pocket. After smooching up to the receptionist and getting some dirt on the employee, Oliver found out said employee helped Isabel funnel her money in no less than  _ four _ other banks scattered in Northern Illinois. 

So, once compiling the information, he told his fellow Bratva compatriots and they raided each one of Isabel’s accounts – as of this morning, Isabel has absolutely nothing to her name, and every escort currently under Isabel’s has a piece of her money. However, Oliver left just enough cash at the bank left in Chicago that would give prosecutors evidence to put her in jail.

There’s one more bank left in the city that has all of Isabel’s records, with appointments dating back from 2003. And in the entire pile, he found the Holy Grail of all record books – a master list of every escort Isabel hired and fired, with their real and escort names attached with a photo of them, and several USBs with Excel sheets of every transaction Isabel’s received since she started Emerald.

Coupled with his newfound computer skills Oliver, with the help of a former KGB agent named Anatoly, hacked into Emerald’s website last night and erased all trace of any escort having been associated with Emerald. He even burned the book with every escort’s information, since he didn’t want anyone to get sent to jail for Isabel’s foolishness. All that’s left are thousands of dollars in Isabel’s bank accounts and record books detailing money transactions for every client – enough to send her ass to jail, and maybe start a political scandal. 

Now it’s Oliver’s turn to smirk – staring straight into Isabel’s eyes, Oliver says lowly, “I’ve already called the police. They’ll be here any minute now.”

Her face pales and Oliver sees her swallowing thickly, her eyes darting across the club. In a split second Isabel reaches for her books and almost makes a run for it, but Oliver grabs her arm, yanking her towards him.

“You don’t get to escape this time. Not after everything you’ve done to those men and women,” Oliver growls. “Some of them were practically  _ children _ .”

“Fuck.  _ You _ .” Isabel snatches her arm away from Oliver, her eyes shining with resentment and a hint of fear. “You don’t know how hard I’ve struggled to get to this point. And you’re taking it away because of what? Vengeance?”

Oliver shakes his head, annoyed that Isabel still doesn’t get it. “It’s because you’re a piece of shit who only cares about herself.”

There’s a tense beat until Isabel whispers, “After all I did for you –”

“You did  _ nothing _ .” Stepping closer toward Isabel, Oliver makes sure his gaze burns a deep hole inside her cold, black heart.

“Accept it: you’re done.”

In an effort to have the last word, Isabel’s mouth open and closes several times before she realizes Oliver’s bested her. The sirens have gotten louder and Oliver hears the car doors open, the sound of several police officers marching into Verdant music to his ears. For a split second, Isabel’s eyes glaze over with real fear – the kind that lingers, the one that causes someone to make irrational decisions.

As the doors open and several police officers enter Verdant, Oliver keeps an eye on Isabel and watches her bravado crumble in his presence. For so many years she thought herself to be god-like, yet she’s just like them – human and prone to arrogance and greed.

Oliver savors every moment knowing he had a hand in her demise, and takes immense satisfaction from watching Isabel get handcuffed by officers. As they read her rights, her eyes harden and she spits out, “I’ll get you for this.”

Her threat rings empty to his ears, and as she’s carted away into whatever darkness she deserves to be in, a sense of pure, unadulterated relief washes over Oliver. This is one chapter he’s able to close on his own terms, and  _ damn _ if it didn’t feel good.

* * *

Now officially out of work, Oliver stares at his apartment as the sunlight coats every inch of his one-dimensional, bland apartment. It’s filled with basic amenities but there’s no personal touch – it’s fit for short-term living arrangements, not a nearly eight-year stay.

Oliver’s mind flashes to his home back in Star City, grand and luxurious, tasteful and classic. The gardens were nothing short of stunning, and unbeknownst to everyone, there was a hidden hallway that led straight out to the gardens. He remembers how lively Christmas time used to be, and when Raisa made her delicious Russian cookies for Oliver and Thea every day starting at the beginning of December till Christmas.

He had a happy family and a happy home, and  _ God _ , what he would do to get it again.

Something stirs in Oliver – staring at his empty apartment only makes the feeling intensify. Standing up, Oliver paces his living room, his hand rubbing against his forehead as he digests everything that’s happened in the past few hours.

It’s really over – he’s no longer Isabel’s whore. He and every other escort under her thumb are finally free, and they’re able to do whatever the hell they want. And yet Oliver’s deathly  _ afraid _ . It feels like he’s back in Star City, unsure of the future and worried where he’ll spend the next few nights. It’s unsettling to be so . . . free.

He’s spent the last few months using every waking minute of his day to ruin Isabel – it distracted him from thinking about what Felicity’s doing with her new life in Star City, and made him focus on protecting young and fragile escorts like Taiana. Now that it’s over, Oliver’s at a loss and he’s worried what will happen to him next.

But it’s silly – he’s made so much money these past few years, and coupled with the money he stole from Isabel, there’s more than enough to start a new life elsewhere. He can actually go to  college , and not just a lame city college. Oliver has real, tangible options and for some reason he has no idea what to do with them.

He wishes his mom and dad were here. He wishes they could guide him and tell him what to do with his life. He wishes he could go back to Star City and make up nearly eight year’s worth of hugs to his sister. He wishes he never took advantage of his wealth, paid attention to school, and heeded his father’s warnings. He wishes he didn’t blow it with Felicity and had someone to talk to.

Making up every single mistake is his biggest wish of all but the most unattainable. And it wrecks him.

There’s a tightness forming in his chest, and the sensation becomes too overwhelming for him to be standing up. Taking a seat on his barely used couch, Oliver inhales a few deep breaths although it does nothing to calm him. He can’t stop feeling so  _ agitated _ and nervous all at once, and unsure of how to control himself, Oliver stands right back up.

Balling up his fists, Oliver takes one glance out the window and can’t suppress a strangled sob escaping his lips.

His vision blurs with tears that haven’t shed in several years, and his body shakes with emotions he’s forcibly buried deep inside. There’s nothing going on in his mind – it’s a blank space filled with sadness and a need for release. It hurts to cry. His chest can’t handle it, pinching painfully in retaliation for suppressing it for so long. Oliver sinks back down on the couch, holding himself tight and letting his emotions escape to the surface.

Oliver doesn’t think about anything or anyone. He . . . cries. He allows himself a moment of weakness, a moment to let his façade down to show the empty walls how lonely he is. There’s no audience – just him and his past, sitting at a standstill, wondering where the hell he should go next.

As his sobs lessen, Oliver suddenly remembers the shame and humiliation he felt the first time he whored himself. He was so nervous and didn’t have a single clue what to do, but during the appointment, Oliver felt so insignificant that it was a blessing. No one knew him and no one would remember him. He was a pretty face who fucked other nameless faces. Oliver Queen didn’t matter anymore, and it was all he could ask for back then.

Being numb allowed him to barely survive, and yet, it led him nowhere. He ruined his one shot at happiness with Felicity. Instead of finding real work, Oliver continued to take the easy way out and rise up the ranks on Emerald’s roster, all while getting paid thousands of dollars a day and doing absolutely  _ nothing _ with his life. He was completely aimless.

This time is different. It  _ has _ to be. Oliver’s entire existence has been a combination of avoiding problems or becoming one, only to find an easy way out with zero consequences. Even as a prostitute he’s managed to escape unharmed, and although Oliver wasn’t able to get a job in corporate America, he didn’t have to work very hard to get a job at Emerald.

Things just show up at his feet and he takes it without understanding the gravity of it. He took a job at Emerald without realizing how much of a toll it’ll take on him and his personal life. He devoured Felicity’s love and didn’t realize it was the only thing making him breathe until it was too late.

But maybe it’s  _ not _ too late. Maybe Oliver can’t patch up every mistake he’s made, but he can start off this new chapter by not getting off on the wrong foot. Maybe, instead of letting others dictate what he can and can’t do, he’ll carve his own path.

It starts with going back home. Back to Star City.

* * *

The second Oliver steps out of the airport, he’s hit with a whiff of the seaside mixed in with pollutants – it smells so familiar that a grin unconsciously forms on his lips.  From afar he can see Star City’s skyline, dotted with even more buildings than eight years ago. There’s a cacophony of jackhammers and yelling from nearby construction workers, the sounds dulling his senses for a moment.

Oliver can already tell things are going to be different, but he’s come to accept that part of life.

Hailing a cab, Oliver goes straight to the Holiday Inn near the airport, anxious and excited to visit Thea. On the plane ride, Oliver labored over whether to tell her the truth about his escort days or to keep quiet. It seems hypocritical and counterintuitive to keep such a secret – his experience with Felicity showed him the downside of not being honest. Unfortunately, he’s already told Thea he worked as an independent consultant and knows she won’t press him for more details. But he vows to tell her the truth as soon as they have time to themselves because he owes her that.

Oliver wants to surprise Thea, so he calls up the Merlyn’s household, unsure if it’s the same number from several years ago. To his surprise it ends up being the same, but the maid tells him she’s not there. After pressing for more details, the maid asks, “Who’s speaking?”

“It’s her brother, Oliver . . . Queen.” His  _ original _ last name sounds foreign to his ears – he’s spent the better part of seven years ignoring that part of himself, and now he has to come face to face with it.  

“Ah, OK! She’s with Mr. Merlyn at Nightwing.”

Confused, Oliver wonders why Thea would be at a club this early on a Saturday.

“Oh, I see. Thank you for telling me that, I . . . wouldn’t have known. And could you not tell Thea I called? I want this to be a surprise.”

“Of course,” the maid responds warmly. “Have a great day.”

“You too.”

Ending the phone call, Oliver swiftly gathers his coat and leaves his room, unsure of what to expect from his meeting with Thea. As he takes an Uber to Nightwing – he really needs to ask Tommy about the name, it’s sounds vaguely comic book-y – he frets about what to say to Thea. He’s FaceTimed with her several times and has noticed how much older she looks, to the way her dressing has turned out to be a little more mature than he’s used to. She’s even begun to sound like his mother, which causes Oliver to think fondly of his mother.

The ride is long so Oliver takes the opportunity to really soak in the sights. So much seems the same, but Oliver can spot the roads that were recently repaved, the bus system appears to be running a lot more efficient than before, and spots several new skyscrapers. People are everywhere – they’re walking, running, or relaxing in one of Star City’s several parks. It brings a smile to his face, because after the recession Oliver worried whether Star City would be able to recover. Apparently it did and then some.

Palmer Tech is a sore spot in Star City’s skyline, but Oliver has to admit, his resentment towards Ray Palmer has lessened in these past few months. It wasn’t Ray’s fault he took over Queen Consolidated – it was his mother’s bad decisions that ruined the company. He’s come to accept the Queen family wasn’t as honest about their business practices, and it was only a matter of time until it stabbed them in the back. Although Oliver can’t speak like a businessman, he understands what “unethical” and “immoral” mean. Perhaps QC’s downfall was meant to happen.

There’s a still a twinge in his heart when he thinks about Felicity. He tries not to obsess over what she’s doing at Palmer Tech, though he genuinely hopes she’s happier there. For awhile he would read articles about her, but stopped when he realized he needed to give  _ himself _ some distance. Oliver spent much of his time relying on Felicity to make him happy that he didn’t focus on himself. Depending on another person to make things better for him only shifted the responsibility away from Oliver, and he needed to stop doing it. He has to accept the good and bad parts of himself in order to be with another.

It isn’t long before Oliver realizes they’re going towards the Glades, and he frowns at the thought. The area was known for it’s high crime and poverty rate, and he wonders what the hell Tommy was thinking by putting a club there. But as they inch closer to the club, Oliver notices brand new buildings, several new restaurants and better infrastructure. It’s obvious Star City is wanting to make the Glades a livable and trendy area, but he doesn’t doubt gentrification is taking place. It’s a bittersweet feeling – he wants the Glades to prosper but he can only imagine the pain of losing one’s home to outside forces.

He would  _ definitely _ know the feeling.  

The car stops in front of the club, but Oliver hesitates to go inside. The club looms over him and he worries if this was a mistake. What if Thea doesn’t want to see him? He made an effort to not allow Thea to come to Chicago in fear of her finding out about his job. There’s a large chance she resents him from doing so. And if Tommy’s there? What will he do then?

“Hey, uh, do you mind . . .?”

The Uber driver cranes his neck to the side and glares at Oliver, silently asking him to scram as fast as he can. Embarrassed the man caught him spacing out, Oliver quickly gets out of the car and watches it zoom past him, wishing he could call it back. Nervous, Oliver starts rubbing his fingers in an effort to calm him down, although it fails spectacularly. The giant Nightwing sign taunts him, and gathering as much courage as he can, Oliver steps finally inside the club.

Oliver’s surprised to find it unlocked, but he’s immediately in awe of how amazing it looks. It’s got a very industrial look to it with a large dance floor, and an upstairs lounge for the elite. He can tell it’s been much loved – there are plenty of scratches on the dance floor and he spots leftover confetti in a corner. The ceiling is an expansive glass one, flooding the space with much needed sunlight.

As Oliver continues to step inside, his heart warms in happiness – he’s incredibly proud of Tommy. Over the years Oliver’s kept tabs on Tommy and was ecstatic when he saw a positive article about Tommy and his club. Nightwing looks to be a labor of love and he’s glad Tommy found something he’s passionate about. For a time he worried Tommy wouldn’t move past his partying phase, but that seems to have changed – somewhat.

Oliver distinctively remembers he and Tommy joking about opening a club together so they could continue their lifestyle of debauchery and indulgence, but Oliver didn’t think Tommy would actually do it. Good for him (although he doubts Malcolm Merlyn is pleased with Tommy’s business venture).

Rounding a corner, Oliver spots a large bar to the right and finds bottles upon bottles stacked on its shelves. Stepping closer, Oliver considers stealing one to mess with Tommy when he suddenly hears soft giggles coming from his right.

Taking one glance at the source is enough to make him vomit right there, but he manages to tamp it down for everyone’s sake. Finding his baby sister suck the face of none other than Roy Harper was the last thing he expect to see, but it appears he was meant to see it.

His mind goes through various emotions: shock, disgust and anger with a hint of happiness. He’s glad to see Roy working at Nightwing as a successful waiter, but he’s more than pissed to know he’s making out with Thea. And he certainly didn’t expect to see Thea for the first time in almost eight years under these circumstances.

They’re oblivious to Oliver loitering behind them, so he loudly clears his throat, hoping it’ll get their attention. They immediately break apart, shocked and embarrassed for getting caught in such a situation. Averting his gaze, Oliver waits for them to straighten themselves out until he hears Thea gasp loudly.

“Ollie?”

Glancing up at her and unable to contain his excitement, Oliver smiles wide as he’s about to explode in happiness. It feels so  _ good _ to see Thea in person. She’s taller than he remembers, her baby fat is gone and she looks so mature for her age. Gone is his baby sister – she’s been long replaced by an elegant Queen.

“Hey,” Oliver whispers, his throat tightening up with various emotions.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Thea let’s out a sob before running towards him and jumping into his arms. The wind gets knocked out of him, but after  _ finally _ feeling Thea in his arms . . . he could die as a happy man.

Hugging her tight, Oliver lets out a sigh of relief and tries to soothe her as she cries. His own eyes well in up tears – he hadn’t realized how hard it was for Thea to not see him. For a moment he’s transported back before everything went to shit, when his mother and father were still alive. He hadn’t felt whole in such a long time, but right now he’s feels nothing but complete.

Detangling herself from Oliver, Thea laughs and wipes her tears away. Grinning, she takes his hand and firmly grasps it. “I missed you big brother.”

“I missed you too, Thea.”

There’s so much to catch up on. Despite talking to her on the phone, he’s missed a large chunk of her transition to adulthood. He wants to know who her friends are, what her favorite color is, and whether she still hates shrimp. Oliver may not be able to make up for his absence, but he wants to be there for Thea in every way he can.

“Um Roy, this is my brother, Ollie.”

Oliver had forgotten Roy was standing there, but as Roy blankly stares at him, Oliver does his best to convey how much he needs to keep his mouth shut.

Groaning internally, Oliver can spot the exact moment it all comes together for Roy. “Ollie . . . Short for Oliver . . . Queen.”

“Yeah.”

Glaring at Roy, Oliver silently begs him to not say anything more. Thankfully he proves to be smarter than that, and doesn’t say another word.

“Uh . . . do you two know each other?”

“Nope” he and Roy say in unison. It’s awkward for a minute as Thea pointedly glances back and forth between the two, no doubt suspicious, though she keeps it to herself. Oliver spots Roy avoiding to look him in the eye, and he almost feels bad for the poor guy.

Clearing her throat, Thea hooks an arm around Oliver’s and asks, “What are you doing here?”

Roy ostentatiously goes behind the bar to restock its dwindling alcohol supply, so Oliver takes it as an opportunity to focus his attention on Thea. “Actually, I left –”

“Roy, what’s taking so long? I needed you downstairs five minutes ago.”

_ Tommy _ .

Oliver could be half dead and he would recognize that voice  _ anywhere _ . As his heart begins to thump loudly beneath his chest, excitement and nervousness coils at the pit of his stomach, The last time Oliver saw Tommy was when he dropped Thea off at the Merlyn’s home, and in the following years, promptly ignored every phone call from Tommy. He owes Tommy  _ so _ much, the first of which is a long and heartfelt apology.

“Holy shit . . .  _ Ollie _ ?”

It plays out exactly like a scene from a movie – Oliver slowly turns around and comes face to face with his past, no longer able to avoid it. Just looking at Tommy brings an overwhelming desire for the good old days that he doesn’t know how to function.

“Tommy,” he says a little breathlessly.

Although his former friend looks relatively the same, Oliver notices a few changes – there are permanent laugh lines around his mouth and he looks older, more mature.  Owning a successful business has done wonders for Tommy, and Oliver’s so proud of him for starting this venture.  

“I can’t believe it – you’re actually here!”

It’s as if no time has passed – Tommy immediately wraps Oliver in a hug, ignoring the fact that Oliver left Tommy in the dust without a moment’s hesitation. A lump forms in his throat, since he doesn’t know how to articulate how much Tommy means to him. He practically raised Thea when Oliver couldn’t, and appears to not begrudge Oliver for dropping off the face of the earth. Oliver doesn’t deserve Tommy’s friendship, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

Removing himself from Tommy’s embrace, Oliver laughs as Tommy joins with him. It feels good to hear Tommy laugh beside him, and for a moment he feels like he never left.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah no kidding!” Clasping a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, Tommy gently shakes it and exclaims, “Now  _ that’s _ what I call a surprise.”

Over to the side Oliver spots Thea smiling warmly, no doubt happy they’ve reunited. He also sees a tall, bulky man over to the side, stoically watching the scene unfold. Oliver feels a little self-conscious in front of an audience – there are a lot of things he needs to individually say to Tommy and Thea, and doing it in front of Roy and some other man isn’t how Oliver imagined apologizing.

Sensing his hesitation, Tommy looks at Oliver as he tries to ease his worries. “I need to check on something upstairs, but we obviously have a lot to catch up on. How about we grab lunch? You hungry?”

“Uh –”

“Great answer!”

Stepping away from Oliver, Tommy points to the unnamed man silently watching the exchange. “John, get the car ready because Oliver and I are gonna tear it up at Magic Kitchen!”

Chuckling to himself, Tommy runs up the stairs as John goes to bring the car around, leaving Oliver completely bewildered. He just met Tommy for the first time in almost eight years and they’re already having plans to each lunch at their favorite Thai place.

He had hoped to spend the rest of the day with Thea, but he also needs to make amends with Tommy. Facing Thea he asks, “Is it OK if I go . . .?”

“Oh my God, of course Ollie!” Waving her hand dismissively she adds, “I have some errands to run anyway. Are you free to have dinner tonight?”

“I’m always free to have dinner with you, Speedy.” He grins at the nickname – it never fails to remind him of little Thea chasing him whenever she got the chance.

Rolling her eyes, Thea tilts her head to the side and points a finger at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Instead he smiles, glad he’s in Thea’s good graces and excited to have dinner with his sister. Coming back to Star City is turning out to be much better than he thought.

“All right, I’ll call you when I’m finished.” Thea nods seriously, and taking a quick glance at Roy behind the bar, Oliver jokingly – albeit a tiny bit seriously – orders, “I hope your errands don’t include making out with the waiter.”

Thea blushes furiously and looks about ready to apologize before Oliver stops her. “Don’t sweat it.”

Visibly relaxing, Thea nods again and smiles shyly. “Well, have fun at lunch. I cannot  _ wait _ to hear what happens.”

Thea sounds so much like his mother that he could’ve sworn she was right there in front of him. After seeing her in person, Oliver has no doubt their parents would be proud of Thea. For so long he was afraid of dealing with the present that he forgot some good things could come out of it.

Waving a goodbye, Oliver exists the club and is greeted with a black Mercedes. John, Tommy’s driver and possible bodyguard, nods his head and opens the passenger door for him.

“Welcome back, Mr. Queen.”

He says it so seriously that Oliver forgot John was saying something nice to him. 

“Thank you,” he says as he sits inside the car. Oliver’s immediately hit with a whiff of expensive leather, and it feels so foreign to him that he feels awkward sitting in the car.

The door doesn’t shut, and when Oliver quizzically looks up at John, he’s unabashedly staring at him. But it doesn’t make Oliver uncomfortable – instead, Oliver can tell John’s studying him, his eyes gazing into his soul with a certain kind of knowledge only a few possess.

“You’ll never get used to it, Mr. Queen.”

“To what?”

Smiling knowingly, John tips his head to Oliver. “Being home.”

He doesn’t know how to respond but as John shuts the door, Oliver can’t help but wonder if he’s right.

If he is, then perhaps chasing the unknown isn’t such a bad thing.

* * *

Magic Kitchen is exactly as Oliver remembered – loud, small and filled with aromatic smells. He can’t recall how many times he’s been here, but he and Tommy mainly came when they needed drunk food. This restaurant has many great memories, and he’s glad Tommy brought him someplace familiar.

During the entire ride Tommy talked incessantly, telling Oliver everything that happened in Star City since he left. He found out Carter Bowen was an accomplished doctor, one girl from their class married a prince from Dubai, and Laurel Lance is a civil rights lawyer at CNRI.

Hearing and thinking of Laurel’s name used to bring a pang of sadness – mainly due to how he left things with her – but he’s long moved on from being in love with Laurel. And besides, as evidenced by Tommy’s desire to stop talking about Laurel, he has a suspicion they might be seeing each other. If that’s the case he’s happy for them.

Now that they’ve placed their orders, it’s gotten a bit silent between them as Tommy’s run out of ways to fill the void. Oliver gathers the courage to say what’s next but finds it easier said than done.

Leaning forward, Oliver takes a deep breath and begins, “Tommy I have to . . . After the way I left things . . .”

Words get stuck in his throat, and he berates himself for not planning this out earlier. He needs to convey how much Tommy’s promise – and  _ keeping _ that promise – means to him. He honestly doesn’t know what he would’ve done with Thea had the Merlyns not taken her in.

“Seriously Oliver, if you don’t stop talking this lunch is over.”

Clearing his throat, Tommy rubs his hand on the nape of his neck, no doubt feeling awkward. He always had a hard time admitting his feelings, but Oliver wants Tommy to know how much he means to him.

“I  _ have _ to say it.”

“I’d rather you not.”

Sighing, Oliver leans back against his seat and eyes Tommy. He refuses to look at Oliver as a way to change the subject, but Oliver won’t yield. When he came back to Star City he wanted to make amends, and he needs to start with Tommy.

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I have to thank you for raising Thea and . . . protecting her from how bad it had gotten.”

His throat tightens from the overflow of emotions, and he glances down at the table to compose himself. Oliver knows he and Thea would’ve been homeless had they both moved to Chicago. There’s no way Oliver would’ve become an escort if Thea was there, and working menial jobs to make ends meet would put him on living paycheck to paycheck. And Thea deserved better. Despite not being blood related, Thea was given a top-notch education and is currently in college, fully funded by Malcolm Merlyn. Oliver couldn’t have done that all those years ago.  

It seems Tommy understands how much thanking him means to Oliver, since he leans forward and softly says, “Listen, I would do this all over again. You know that, right?”

_ This _ is why Tommy became his best friend. It was his selflessness, his loyalty, and unwavering belief in the goodness of others, which made him an amazing person. If Tommy were someone else, Oliver wouldn’t be able to ask him of such a big favor all those years ago. He wishes he hadn’t stopped taking his calls, but it was his cowardice that made him do so.

“I know, which is why I want to thank you. And apologize.”

Trying to make light of the situation Tommy brushes his apology off. “Since when did you become a sap?”

His heart heavy and desperately wanting Tommy’s forgiveness – even if he doesn’t deserve it – Oliver sincerely says, “Since I owed you . . . everything.”

It seems Tommy’s  _ finally _ willing to accept his apology and thank you as his eyes soften while he nods solemnly. Oliver waits with bated breath, but just like that Tommy’s smiles wide, his happiness reaching every inch of him. 

“It’s OK, Oliver.  _ Really _ . There’s nothing to forgive.”

He doesn’t feel a weight get lifted off his shoulders, but instead feels . . . normal. Like forgiving and forgetting was the next, natural step in Oliver and Tommy’s lives. There’s no need for groveling or heavy words, just a simple acknowledgement that the past is in the past, and it’s time to move on.

And for that Oliver’s forever grateful.

* * *

It’s evening now, and although Oliver’s dead tired, he’s willing to stay up if it means spending more time with Thea. Much to his surprise, Malcolm bought Thea a condo in the heart of downtown with no strings attached. Malcolm had always doted on Thea, but this is more than he’s ever done for Tommy. Either way, Thea’s ecstatic to have a place of her own, and Oliver can’t blame her for doing so considering how nice the views are.

She had ordered Big Belly Burger for dinner – Oliver had honestly forgotten how much he missed it. The Midwest didn’t have Big Belly so Oliver relied on other fast food joints to survive the day. It’s as if Thea read Oliver’s mind and knew exactly what he needed to feel right at home.

They’ve finished up dinner and have moved onto talking about menial things, but in the back of his mind Oliver knows now is the best time he to tell Thea the truth about his time in Chicago. He’s afraid of what she’ll say and worried she’ll want to cut him out of her life. But he  _ has _ to take this chance – he can’t continue to start over with a lie. Thea deserves better.

“Thea, I have to tell you something.”

Clearing his throat, Oliver turns to face Thea as he mentally prepares himself for this dreaded conversation. She looks at him with caution, no doubt worried what he’ll say next.

“This sounds serious.”

She sits cross-legged on the couch and focuses her attention on Oliver, and he’s struck by how mature she’s become. Sometimes he forgets how hard these past few years have been for her, too. Oliver can only imagine the teasing and bullying she received from her classmates, but it looks like she’s come out on top.

Nervous, Oliver inhales deeply as he gathers his wits. “I haven’t been honest with you. About my time in Chicago.”

“OK . . .”

Thea’s eyes have widened and his heart beats nervously, wondering how he can properly say what ne needs to. She’s become a little closed off now – Oliver can see her shoulders have contracted and she folds her arms in front of her chest.

Sighing quietly, Oliver takes a moment to plan out what he wants to say. “You know how I said I was an independent consultant?”

“Yeah, whatever that means,” she snorts.

“I was actually . . . I was doing something else.”

She watches him carefully, her face devoid of any emotion that might betray her inner turmoil. This is it – this is the moment all hell will break loose. He’s been anticipating this for so long, and Oliver can only imagine how it’ll turn out to be. 

“I was an escort. For almost eight years.”

The shame and humiliation he’s feeling right now knows no bounds. He can’t bear to look at Thea. He always prized himself as Thea’s protector, as someone who’s strong and intelligent, yet he was nothing more than a common prostitute. What will she think of him now?

Glancing down at her lap, Thea purses her lips and takes a deep breath. Momentarily closing her eyes, she looks back up at Oliver and watches at him so softly that he questions what he’s done to have a sister as wonderful as Thea.

“I  _ know _ , Oliver.”

He’s aware he’s going through shock – Oliver can’t hear anything besides his heart beating thunderously, it’s rhythmic pounding the only thing to bring him back to reality.  

“I’ve known for . . . awhile.”

She’s  _ known _ . She’s known this whole time. Oliver thought he was being smart and calculated with his decisions by changing his name and keeping Thea away from Chicago, but it didn’t help. He could’ve told her the truth so many years ago, and instead continued to craft a lie for no reason. 

Placing his hand against his forehead, Oliver tries to make sense of Thea’s reveal. “ _ How? _ ”

Smiling nervously, Thea shrugs and says, “Well, um, when you would send me money it would be a few hundred. Then it started moving up to the thousands.”

Oliver always made sure to send Thea money – what she did with it wasn’t his concern. He just wanted to let her know he was working, that he wasn’t living out in the streets and he could take care of himself.

“And one time you gave me eight thousand dollars, which was . . . suspicious. So I hired a PI and . . . he followed you.”

There’s a part of him proud of Thea for being smart enough to figure it out, but he’s undoubtedly ashamed for hiding his secret for so long. “How long have you known?”

Thea scrunches her nose in concentration before saying, “About . . . three years? Maybe four.”

He’s at a loss for words. He feels like an idiot for lying, but he also wonders why Thea didn’t say anything before. It certainly would’ve saved them this long overdue conversation.

“Jesus. Why didn’t you say anything?”

With a gentle smile, Thea places a hand over Oliver’s and squeezes tightly. Her eyes shine and her chin trembles slightly. “Because it was obviously a hard choice for you to make. And I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

He’s struck by the gravity of her words, and it takes every ounce of strength not to fall into her arms. She’s  _ so _ strong. She’s become everything their parents, and Oliver, wanted her to be: intelligent, caring, and above all understanding. His baby sister wanted to spare Oliver the pain and humiliation, and shouldered his burden far more than she deserved. What more could he have asked for?

“I’m sorry I lied, Speedy.”

Shaking her head, she squeezes his hand once more. “I know you did it to protect me. So  _ thank you _ . And you don’t have to apologize for what you did to survive.”

Oliver throat closes due to his overwhelming emotions as he presses Thea’s hand back in gratitude.

“Thank _ you _ . For not . . . hating me for what I’ve done.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she removes her hand from his and promptly smacks his arm. “Ollie, I could never hate you.”

He laughs as he’s feeling truly weightless for the first time in . . . forever, really. Telling Thea the truth was always in the back of his mind, and there were times when he didn’t want to talk to her knowing he was lying through his teeth. Coupled with his lunch with Tommy and a productive dinner with Thea, Oliver feels he’s begun to  _ really _ move on from his past.

He’s become the Oliver Queen he was meant to be.

They fall into an easy silence and Oliver remembers the stupid, and frankly, ridiculous lies he told Thea. It came to a point where he would try to make a believable lie before he and Thea spoke, but when she would ask him about work, he would almost always forget.  

“Do you and Roy know each other?”

Her abrupt question throws him off, and he almost groans aloud – Thea’s too smart for her own good.

Sensing his hesitation Thea ventures, “He told me he was an escort in Chicago so . . .”

_ Huh. _ At least Roy’s honest with Thea, something he can’t say about himself. It feels weird being so frank about his time as an escort – for so long Oliver kept this to himself that it was almost second nature. But this is his opportunity to be as honest as possible with Thea, and he won’t throw it away no matter how awkward it is.

“Well Roy was, uh . . . kind of my apprentice.”

There’s a pregnant pause until Thea throws her hands in the air, bewildered by the turn of events. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Sorry.” Oliver honestly feels bad for telling her, but he’d rather she find out through him than Roy.

“No wonder you two looked like you knew each other,” she says, defeated. Scrunching her nose once more, Thea looks away in contemplation. It’s highly unusual for one’s older brother to be a madam of sorts to their sister’s current boyfriend, but Thea’s taking it like a pro.

“Sorry. Again.”

She waves him off. “It’s OK. It’s always been OK.”

Smiling tiredly, they fall into another easy silence. For the first time in several years, Oliver isn’t thinking about what client he has next, or how he’s going to funnel his money. It still hasn’t hit Oliver he’s free from Isabel, his lies and the past.

“So what do you plan on doing now that you’re back?”

His inclination is to shrug and tell Thea he doesn’t have a plan but . . . He came to Star City for a reason. It wasn’t just to go home and apologize – he wants to make a difference in his life. Oliver was never passionate about  _ anything _ and took his wealth – or lack thereof – and his esteemed position at Emerald to his advantage. Oliver never truly worked hard for anything, and there’s nothing he can say he’s proud of for doing.

But that can change too.

“I’m . . . gonna open a café.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting yesterday, I got held up and forgot about it. :) There's one more chapter left and an epilogue, so we're at the home stretch!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter Oliver destroyed Isabel, came back to Star City, and reconciled with Tommy and Thea. He then decided to open a cafe. 
> 
> This chapter is entirely in Felicity's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay. This chapter ended up being a monster (30 pages to be exact) and RL was getting in the way. This is the LAST chapter!!! I'll be posting the epilogue this Thursday. 
> 
> Many thanks to [Tammy](http://curvy-tam.tumblr.com/) and [Mimi](http://the-mimi-hiddleston.tumblr.com/) for being the best cheerleaders and betas out there. They were so supportive and understanding during this time. You two are the best. :)
> 
> Also many thanks to the amazing [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller) for making this chapter a thousand times better. <3

_Nine months later_

Despite moving her desk away from the windows, Felicity finds herself suspiciously staring at them and wondering when they’ll break off. Back at Kord her office was on the 51st floor, but now she’s all the way at the 60th and no amount of anxiety pills can make her overcome her fear of heights. She doesn’t doubt she could switch offices with someone else, but all the offices have windows on this floor, so it wouldn’t really make a difference.

Sighing, Felicity decides the best way to stop looking over to the side is to put a large plant that’ll obstruct her view of the ground below. Still, she shouldn’t complain too much when she’s got a nice view of Star City and the plaque outside her door which reads “Felicity Smoak, CTO.”

Now _that_ is what success looks like.

It’s been nine months since Felicity left Star City, and she’s starting to become accustomed to her life here. Star City is different from Chicago – it’s smaller and cleaner, and it feels more relaxed. She was always stressed at Kord, wondering if she had done the wrong thing or overstepped her boundaries. Even though she’s CTO, Felicity actually has two full _days_ off for the weekend, instead of spending her Saturdays in the office. The workload is different and she oversees everything technology related in Palmer Tech, but it’s good. She’s busy and happy – her bank account is definitely happy, too.

Although she enjoys her time in Star City, making friends while being CTO is harder than she anticipated. Felicity essentially has to start from scratch, which is easier said than done. Even though she’s lived here for nine months, Felicity hasn’t ventured much inside Star City, let alone walked around her entire neighborhood. There are times when she feels lonely, and a small part of her wonders whether it was worth coming to Palmer Tech.

Despite having gone on a couple quasi-dates with Ray, Felicity eventually chose not to be in a relationship with Ray. It would look completely unprofessional if she had decided to be with Ray considering they’re coworkers, and thankfully he understood how important her job was. Regardless, it didn’t hurt to occasionally flirt here and there, and he was a good business partner. For once, she feels appreciated and revered.

In the end, Felicity knows she would’ve never had this opportunity if she hadn’t left Kord. As CTO, she’s begun to work with engineers to create ways to help those with spinal injuries and several other projects that’ll change the world. Felicity’s actually _eager_ to come to work, and coupled with Ray’s enthusiasm, the company is always buzzing with excitement.

She’s in a good place.

There’s a loud knock on her door, and before Felicity can tell the person to come in, Curtis Holt barges into the room looking nothing short of frazzled. Alarmed, Felicity stands up while her secretary comes running in, confused by Curtis’ antics.

Nodding at her secretary – Kendra – that everything’s all right, she focuses her attention on Curtis and asks, “What do you think you’re doing here?”

Ignoring her, Curtis – one of Palmer Tech’s most respected engineers – continues to pace back and forth her office. His hair is wild and it looks like he hasn’t slept, which is definitely a bad sign. “Are you OK?”

“No, no way, not. At. All.” Stopping right in front of her, he looks at her with I-haven’t-slept-in-five-days eyes and whispers, “It’s done.”

Felicity’s heart begins to pound as she can only imagine what went wrong. “What’s . . . done?” A thousand scenarios run through her head, all of which end badly. So many things could be “done” buy Curtis’ definition that she can’t _think_.

“The chip. It’s totally done for like my late grandmother – bless her but not really because she was a _little_ mean – and I don’t even know what we’re going to do because even _I’m_ having a hard time trying to find a solution for this, and basically I need you A. S. A. _P.”_

_Oh no. Frack._

_Shit._

The spinal chip meant to save the world has had a lot of hiccups from the very beginning, ranging from lab disasters to not being able to get the funding they needed from investors. But seeing Curtis so uninhibited means something _really_ went wrong, and there’s zero time to waste.

Grabbing her phone – and promptly dropping it before she picks it up again – Felicity kicks off her heels, getting ready for battle. “We’re going. _Now._ ”

“Aye, Captain!” Curtis bolts out of there with Felicity in tow, as she tries not to slip on the marble floors due to her tights. She and Curtis run past Kendra and she looks at them with bewilderment, shocked to see her boss running in the halls of Palmer Tech.

“Miss Smoak! You have a meet–”

“Not now Kendra!” Felicity yells as she dodges her coworkers. She can only imagine how she looks with a tight fitted skirt while running down the hall at full speed. Curtis, being unnaturally tall, is almost at the elevators and she hates him for having a biological advantage over her. “Cancel everything today! And tomorrow!”

Thankfully Curtis is already inside the elevator holding the door for her and she runs inside, desperate to go down to the R&D floor. Realizing she forgot to say something else to Kendra, she sticks her head out the elevator and yells, “And for the foreseeable future!”

She only manages to _just_ bring her head back inside before the elevator doors close on her face, and it isn’t until Felicity hears how loud they’re breathing that she realizes the absurdity of the situation. Laughing, Felicity bends a little and places her hands on her knees, trying to control her breathing. 

Curtis looks up at the ceiling as he takes in big gulps of air and says, “It’s probably the first time I’ve ran in six months.”

She laughs again and Curtis joins her, as she has no doubt they’re both wondering how they still have a job.

There’s never a dull moment at Palmer Tech, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

 _“If it makes you feel better, Hartley got a little too cocky with Ted Kord at the gala last week and got his butt kicked. For once he’s not walking around with a stick up his ass,”_ Caitlin muses.

Laughing at Hartley’s demise, Felicity continues to walk towards her house (a real, actual house that’s almost one hundred years old and large enough to fit a family of five), dodging runners and people casually walking about. The weather has gotten a little chilly and for the past week it was raining, but today the sun is out and warming everyone’s hearts.

Gripping the phone tighter, Felicity slows her stride and stands to the side, leaning against a brick wall as she continues her conversation with Caitlin. “I don’t think you have any idea how happy I am! I typically don’t want people to get fired or in trouble, but you know what they say . . . karma’s a bitch.”

Chuckling alongside her, Caitlin adds, _“And the best part? He hasn’t come into my office since last week!”_

“Honestly Caitlin, finding out Hartley got his ass handed to him is probably the best thing I’ve heard in forever.”

_“I knew this would be a better present than me coming to visit you.”_

Stepping away from the wall, Felicity starts to walk when she spots a sign with a menu listed on it. Glancing to the side, she sees a small shop and wonders if she should waste time and buy something to eat. Looking back at the menu, Felicity scans it until she spots a four-cheese soufflé as their special.

_Oh, I should send a picture to Oliver –_

There’s a slight twinge of nostalgia and sadness in her chest, reminding her she can no longer do that anymore. Felicity can’t call and talk to him about the latest movie she saw, or joke about random things she’s seen on the Internet. She can’t sprawl all over his couch and complain about work and laugh at his escort stories. There’s no one to hang out with on Wednesdays and Sundays anymore.

There’s no Oliver in her life.

Almost every day Felicity catches herself thinking about him, usually when she sees something which reminds her of Oliver. She wonders if he’s OK and if he’s still working at Emerald, but moments later Felicity remembers she’s in no position to think about him anymore. She has to deal with the consequences of her decision.

No amount of success and money can make up for the fact that Felicity chose to run away from her problems instead of fixing them. But Felicity wasn’t prepared to find out Oliver Jones was, in fact, Oliver _Queen_ . And in her panicked and angry state, she felt Oliver was using her to sustain a picture-perfect friendship, which was anything _but_ perfect, and she pushed him away without talking to him like a mature adult.

It felt like a literal kick to the gut but there was also a sense of relief, too. She _finally_ knew why he was so secretive, why he hated Ray and (in Felicity’s eyes) seemed to not care about her achievements. Felicity’s no stranger to secrets, but when Oliver’s began to impact their friendship, she knew something was up. And sometimes Felicity hated being right.

After Oliver revealed everything to her, she quickly began to put the pieces together but she couldn’t help but wonder: Did he plan on telling her? Evidence proved otherwise. Everything about Oliver’s behavior made sense, yet deep down Felicity knows she never really _knew_ him. And it hurt her. She spent more time with him than anyone else, opened up to him for the first time since Cooper, and all she got was a box of lies.

So, in her anger Felicity left without patching things up between them, hoping a new environment would permanently erase any memory she had of Oliver.

Clearly her plan failed.

Yet, despite feeling lonely and wondering if she made the worst mistake _ever_ , Felicity knows her feelings were justified. Had they not talked (or yelled) about their differences, they probably would’ve continued to be at odds with one another. In the end, their friendship would’ve dissolved like any other, to where their weekly hangouts would’ve turned into monthly, and eventually nothing at all. Their argument was a necessary evil, Felicity concludes, but one that still haunts her to this day.

_“Hello, Felicity? Are you there?”_

She hadn’t realized she spaced out, and honestly forgotten she was on the phone with Caitlin. Her heart still beating at an abnormal pace, Felicity unwillingly tears her eyes away from the menu as a pang of disappointment hits her.

“Yeah, sorry. I . . . never mind.”

Oblivious to Felicity’s inner turmoil Caitlin continues to chat, but Felicity can’t bring herself to pretend everything is OK. Regardless, she pushes through and swallows her feelings away, marching forward into the unknown just as she’s always done. Even if it hurts to do so.

* * *

It’s Thursday now, and for the first time this week Felicity’s spent her entire day at her office. After the fiasco regarding the spinal chip, Felicity’s stayed at the R&D department to make sure everything was running smoothly. They found a whole slew of other problems, so Felicity’s been running on coffee and adrenaline for the past few days.

Needing _another_ cup of Joe, Felicity heads to the kitchen and surprised to find a couple of the secretaries there. Muttering a “Hello” Felicity goes straight to the coffee machine, only to find it completely empty.

_I hate my life._

“Sorry Miss Smoak, I usually refill it but I thought everyone left,” she hears Victoria, Ray’s executive assistant, say.

Turning around, Felicity smiles tiredly at Victoria and another secretary, Carly, to let them know everything is fine. “I guess it’s a sign I should stop drinking coffee and go home, but I’m clearly an addict and don’t know how to stop.”

The girls laugh politely at Felicity’s lame joke and return back to gossiping before her presence interrupted them. She busies herself by setting up the coffee machine when she suddenly hears an Oliver mentioned in the conversation. Her heart pounding, Felicity wonders if it’s Oliver Queen or someone else – yet deep down, she has a feeling it might be _her_ Oliver.

Straining her ears to hear more, Felicity angles herself so that she’s a little closer and can listen to what they’re saying.

“I can’t believe you saw him! What did he look like? I used to have a major crush on him,” Carly says.

Victoria laughs and Felicity can imagine her shaking her head in disbelief. “He’s _so_ hot now. He’s got a scruff, he’s super built, and ugh I’m _drooling_ at the thought of him.”

Only one person fits that description, and it’s Oliver Queen. The knowledge makes Felicity powerless to stop her legs from shaking and her head swimming in questions. What’s he doing back in Star City, for how long has he been here, and why didn't he contact her? When Felicity last saw him, she was convinced he planned on being stuck as an escort in Chicago for the foreseeable future. What changed? 

Confused by the turn of events, she tries to calm herself and listen once more to what Victoria has to say.

“Anyway, he was hanging out with Tommy Merlyn the whole night. I think he’s moved back permanently. I wonder what he was doing for all those years,” Victoria muses.

Felicity has actually met Tommy at a Merlyn Global event, as it was obvious Malcolm Merlyn was trying to set the two up. Obviously nothing happened, but she can see why Oliver would be his friend. She hadn’t realized Tommy and Oliver were close, and shoves the information away for a later date.

Deciding she’s had enough, Felicity doesn’t wait for the coffee to be done and heads straight to her office. Her mind reeling, Felicity shuts the door to her office and lies down on her couch, trying to even her breathing but to no avail. She doesn’t know what to think, other than Oliver Queen is back in town to disrupt her life.

Or maybe make it better.

In a twist of fate, this feels like a second chance to Felicity. She’s been feeling so guilty as of late, and misses Oliver more than she misses her father, even Cooper. There’s an emptiness in her heart, and she knows it’s due to not ending things with Oliver on a good note. What she needs is closure – their fight was a mess and Felicity didn’t get a chance to articulate what was on her mind. If they meet, they can hash things out like adults . . . and possibly reconnect on better terms.

Felicity’s been an optimist for as long as she can remember, but right now she needs another boost like she needs air. She wants to reconcile with Oliver more than anything. These past few months have given her plenty of time to dissect every second of their argument, and she’s come to conclusion they should at least _talk_. Yes, Felicity was deeply hurt but she can see why he kept the information away from her. He was scared of opening up and Felicity shouldn’t blame him. Perhaps now that they’ve aired their dirty laundry, they can move on from the past.

But she’s getting ahead of herself – Felicity needs to reach out to Oliver first. She owes him that. Sitting up on the couch, Felicity reaches for her cellphone and immediately searches for his number, even though her hand is shaking from doing so.

She can’t believe it – it’s happening. She’s _actually_ doing this. For nine months Felicity’s taken out her phone various times so she could apologize, yet every time she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Coupled with her guilt and cowardice, Felicity held off on being the bigger person, but it’s time for a change.

She doesn’t know what she’ll say to him, and for a moment she stops herself from dialing his number. Sighing heavily, Felicity knows if she waits a second longer she won’t call him. For someone who prides herself in being strong, Felicity is undoubtedly weak when it comes to emotions.

Swallowing thickly and gathering whatever courage she has, Felicity dials his number and anxiously waits to see what happens next. Her vision blurs from being overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotions, and she prays Oliver won’t be able to hear her heart loudly beat through the phone.

It rings once until she hears a beep, followed by “I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable.” Shutting the phone, Felicity sighs in relief and leans back on the couch to calm her nerves. She doesn’t _want_ to be relieved Oliver’s ditched his old phone number, and therefore can’t talk to him, but she feels she dodged a bullet. Calling him now isn’t the right time.

One way or another, Felicity knows has to make amends with Oliver. She shouldn’t take this as an opportunity to not seek out Oliver at all, but perhaps she should focus on what she’ll say once she meets him . . . Whenever that happens.

* * *

It’s been a couple of weeks since Felicity found out about Oliver being in town. Once she realized he was back, Felicity promptly spent the next few days combing through the Internet, and found various articles on gossip sites discussing his new look and speculating on what he did for the eight years he was gone. Felicity wonders if people will find out about Oliver’s time as an escort and the thought worries her. It’s possible Oliver may no longer be hiding his work as an escort, which is why he’s back in Star City. After several valiant efforts from rabid fangirls and smarmy reporters, no one has a clue what he did during those eight missing years.

Despite her constant researching, she _still_ hasn’t made an effort to contact Oliver. There’s a part of her afraid he’ll turn her away after what she did to him. She can’t call herself a strong, mature adult when she’s scared shitless to approach Oliver. If she doesn’t speak to him it would make her a hypocrite, and that’s the last thing Felicity wants to be known as.

She just – all she needs is practice. If Felicity doesn’t practice in front of a mirror and spends a few hours to write down what she wants to say to Oliver, she’ll definitely be a blubbering mess and can’t afford for it to happen. Felicity likes to prepare for every situation and this is no different.

Which is why she’s completely shocked and petrified when she sees Oliver outside a building in the Glades on a cold Saturday afternoon, painting on the side of the wall with a serene smile on his face.

Her heart does a strange pitter-patter and her breathing gets shallower by the second, while her mind races with confusion. She’s bundled up in winter gear since it’s November, but she’s suddenly sweating buckets and doesn’t know if she should strip and wave hello, or get the hell out of here.

See, _this_ is why Felicity needs practice and a blueprint for her life, because when things like Oliver randomly appearing in her line of sight happens, she loses her brain and the ability to function.

She’s oblivious to Oliver stopping his work and staring straight at Felicity, until she hears him call her name with such tenderness she can’t _think_. He’s looking at her like she’s the sun, never mind the fact they had a huge fight and haven’t spoken in nine months. And for a moment, Felicity feels so good just looking at him that she thinks no time has passed.

For a split second, Felicity imagines herself running into his arms and pretending everything’s all right between them. But reality is much different and instead she takes slow, robotic steps toward him, unsure of how close she can get to him.

Oliver drops his paintbrush and cautiously steps forward as if he’s trying not to scare her. And maybe that’s a good thing – as familiar as Oliver feels, there’s a distance between them caused by their unfortunate rift. It aches to see how far apart they are now, how the air is laced with trepidation, but maybe this can change.

At least she hopes so.

They finally stop moving towards one another, careful not to overstep their boundaries. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Felicity takes a good look at Oliver and notices a certain bit of lightness to him. His shoulders aren’t tight and rigid, his lips aren’t pursed in thoughtfulness and his eyes . . . they’re wide open, like it’s the first time he’s seeing the world.

Without a doubt, Felicity knows these past nine months have changed Oliver, and she’s unbelievably proud of him.

She can’t stop herself letting out a relieved smile, because all she’s ever wanted for him is to be the man he _can_ be. Felicity can only imagine the emotional toll it took on Oliver to be an escort for so many years, and she’s glad to see him happy for once.

“Hey, Oliver.” Saying his name out loud feels foreign to her mind but familiar to her tongue. Her brain can try to push Oliver’s memory away from her, but every inch of her body and soul will always remember.  

“Hi.”

He’s bundled up as well, but there’s some paint littered on his jeans and his nose is red from the cold. Shuffling his feet, Oliver shyly glances down before looking at Felicity. “It’s good to see you.”

It’s good to see him, too. “Yeah” is all she can muster, as her mouth – for once – is unable to embarrass her any further.

There’s an awkward pause, and in order to distract herself she looks at everywhere but him. For the first time Felicity notices where she’s at – the building Oliver was painting on appears to be a small business, maybe a coffee shop. It doesn’t look like it has opened yet, since she spots equipment, tables and chairs scattered about inside. Her heart leaps as her mind wonders whether Oliver came back to start a business, one that _doesn’t_ require illegal activities. 

Over to the side she spots someone spying them, and as she takes a good look she realizes it’s Tommy Merlyn. He and Oliver are much closer than she expected, but it feels a little weird to be speaking with Oliver when she’s also met Tommy. Felicity spots no one else inside the building or around it, which makes her feel a little better, but she’s still nervous.

Realizing it’s been silent for a good thirty seconds, Felicity takes a deep breath and rocks on her heels, unsure of what she wants to say.

“I . . . called but your phone isn’t . . . working anymore. I mean, it’s been disconnected. Obviously.” She feels herself blushing, which is stupid and annoying. She needs to be stronger than this.

“Uh yeah, sorry about that.” Oliver exhales loudly and adds, “After I moved back I changed numbers. I was getting . . . calls. Ones I didn’t need anymore.”

Her eyes snap up to his and Felicity immediately understands what he’s getting at. It seems Oliver’s officially stopped being an escort, and really _did_ intend to come here as a fresh restart.  And she’s happy for him.

She sees him in a new light now. Felicity was convinced Oliver didn’t care about moving forward, or was so focused on being stuck in his stupor, but she was so damn _wrong_ about him. If things don’t work out between them, or they kind of do but it’s still too hard to move on, then she’ll be OK with it. Because at the end of the day, Felicity knows their time spent together made them into different, and perhaps, better people. And one day, she hopes they’ll get the closure they need and can look back at their friendship with fondness instead of bittersweet nostalgia.

“Oh, gotcha.” Nervous once again, Felicity counts backwards from three to control her word vomit, since she’s positive she’ll say something totally embarrassing. Felicity’s slightly proud of herself for keeping her mouth shut, but she has a feeling she’s only delaying the inevitable.

Sensing Felicity’s at a loss for words, Oliver shuffles his feet once more and shoves his hands inside his coat pockets. Felicity steals a quick glance at him, and she’s once more annoyed-yet-slightly-happy Oliver is as handsome as he is. But it’s how his eyes are devoid of any haunted memories, which gives her a pause for thought.

Oliver’s become the man he was meant to be, and she’s so glad to have witnessed it.  

“Hey, uh, I’m opening a café – this café, actually – next Saturday.” He’s nervous too – maybe their breakup affected him more than she thought, because Oliver is anything but nervous. “I’d . . . really like it if you could come by.”

Her heart skips a beat, and an overwhelming feeling of _hope_ etches into her skin. Although Felicity doesn’t want to expect something from Oliver’s invitation, as it could very well be him acting nice for the sake of _being_ nice, but she wants nothing more than to support Oliver in this endeavor. And if he’s inviting her because he wants to become friends with her, then she should definitely take this opportunity to mend old wounds.

“I might have some company event to go to . . . but I’ll try to make it.”

_Lies._

Why is she being so difficult? She spots the exact moment Oliver’s face falls, and she wants to kick herself in the face, even if it _is_ impossible to do so. This is what she’s wanted for _so long_ – a chance to make up and get closure, and now she’s throwing it away. Felicity doesn’t understand why she’s pretending to not care as much as she does, but it pisses her off she can’t think clearly.

She’s about to rescind her comment until Oliver nods, seemingly unaffected by Felicity’s sort of shutdown. “That’s fine.”

Shrugging then taking a deep breath, he smiles gently and Felicity’s in awe of how _unbothered_ he is. “It was . . . really nice seeing you, Felicity. I hope you can come.”

For some reason her throat closes up, and she can only nod before tears threaten to spill over. Oliver smiles softly once more before turning around to finish painting the wall. She watches him walk toward his friend, his steps carefree and light, and for a moment Felicity wishes she met Oliver when he was like this. But she knows if she didn’t, then she wouldn’t appreciate the struggle he’s gone through, and for that she is forever grateful.

Turning around, Felicity composes herself as she takes long, deep breaths. Today was unexpected, and she needs time to think about what happened with a big bottle of wine by her side.

As she starts to walk away from Oliver, she hears Tommy loudly ask, “Dude, how do you know _Felicity Smoak?_ ”

Well, wouldn’t he like to know.

* * *

The obnoxious wall clock Felicity bought on a whim ticks incessantly, its sound getting louder and louder as the hour hand inches toward six o’clock. She’s spent the last four hours following Twitter mentions of Oliver’s café opening, searching for something but she doesn’t know what. According to visitors, Tommy Merlyn and Thea Queen – Oliver’s sister – are working there and hundreds of people have come. A line started to form an hour before the café – Nocking Point – opened, and since then it’s been nonstop traffic.

She debated going there, but chickened out no less than seven times. Felicity doesn’t know why she’s having a hard time going, especially since this is what she’s wanted for a long time, _and_ Oliver personally invited her. There’s a part of her deathly afraid of the possibility of not getting together as friends or . . . something more.

After finding out Oliver’s no longer a prostitute, her mind wouldn’t stop thinking about what ifs. What if she and Oliver get together? What if they turn into something more than friends? What if their relationship is really good? What if it’s not? It’s the first time she’s allowed herself to think of these questions and they’re making her dizzy.

During the course of their friendship, Felicity found someone who made her happy and excited and less lonely. It was different – she had been intimate with him before she _knew_ him. Oliver saw a part of her very few people did and that will forever tie her to him. And amidst all the weirdness, they became fast friends over the mundane aspects of their lives.

But Felicity held herself back. She didn’t let herself get too attached to Oliver in fear of totally falling in love with him, or forcing him away with her neediness. There were times when she teetered back and forth, unsure if what she felt for him was her projecting a romantic relationship on a friendship because she was lonely, or whether underneath their easy smiles there was something hidden there. In the end she pushed it away, believing their delicate, easy friendship and her career were more important. Felicity didn’t want to disrupt that balance.

Now . . . she doesn’t know what to think. Oliver’s working legally – he has his own _business_ . Felicity didn’t think something she mentioned in passing would actually happen but it did, and he seems happier, less anxious. And, coupled with knowing who Oliver _really_ is, maybe it’s not as unfathomable to be with him.

Letting out a strangled breath, Felicity admits she wants to be with him. She wants to be his girlfriend. She . . . loves him.

The last thought gives her pause, but it’s so _honest_ it aches to admit it. Oliver withholding his secrets from her hurt her more than usual because she cared – _cares_ – about him. A lot. If Oliver were any other friend she wouldn’t have exploded on him as she did, but Oliver was more than a regular friend and it destroyed her when he lied. She thought there was a closeness and understanding, and when Oliver said otherwise, it crushed her soul and any self-esteem she had.

Their breakup has affected Felicity more than she thought, and after seeing Oliver so carefree she wants nothing more than to be a part of it. Nothing’s holding them back – they’re free from societal expectations, shame, embarrassment and stubbornness. For so long Felicity’s been denying the truth, but she has to face it head on.

And tonight is the perfect night.

Without wasting another second, Felicity gathers her coat and purse, her confidence increasing as she realizes she’s _this_ close to meeting Oliver again. Taking her car, Felicity speeds her way to his café and hopes he hasn’t left yet. The shop closed at 5:30 – it’s possible Oliver’s already gone home. This causes Felicity to drive faster, not caring about breaking any traffic rules.

As she speeds along Star City’s streets, she can’t help but snort at how very _rom-com_ this is. Felicity half expects Nora Ephron to jump out of nowhere and direct her reunion with Oliver, and there’s a part of her slightly giddy at the thought of seeing him and telling Oliver her feelings about him. She’s no doubt scared – her mind is an Internet browser with a thousand tabs open, but Felicity plans on going there and being honest.

Lost in her thoughts, Felicity almost misses the café before she screeches to a halt. Luckily she’s able to find parking nearby, but once she kills the engine Felicity’s courage vanishes into thin air. Her mouth pools with saliva, her palms moisten in fear, and she feels her confidence waning.

Glancing at her phone, she sees that it’s already 6:30 and another dose of panic hits her. Oliver could very well be gone, and she’ll have missed her chance to tell Oliver how she feels about him. Inhaling deeply, Felicity checks whatever makeup she has remaining on her face, but she stops for a moment to _look_ at herself. For the first time in awhile, Felicity seems . . . excited. It’s like she’s been on a month long vacation and the summertime glow hasn’t faded away yet.

Felicity does her best to shake her nervousness away and exits the car, because it’s now or never. As she inches closer to the café, she sees the lights are off and her heart drops in disappointment. If Oliver’s not here this will all have been in a waste, and she has to wonder when she’ll get another perfect moment like this. Hugging her coat closer, Felicity stops in front of the café and tugs on the door, finding it locked. Undeterred, she goes over to the window and presses her face against it, hoping someone – preferably Oliver – is inside.

And he is.

He’s sitting on one of the chairs, looking over some papers as his head is bowed in concentration. His collared shirt doesn’t even try to cover his impressive physique, and Felicity finds it endearing there’s a tiny apron wrapped around him.

She spends another few seconds watching him from afar, but her private peep show is over the moment Oliver’s head snaps up and his eyes land on her. Feeling like she got busted for doing something wrong, Felicity blushes furiously and awkwardly waves at him – she can only imagine how weird this looks. He doesn’t move for a moment, no doubt shocked she’s here, but Oliver quickly springs to actions and practically runs to the door.

Felicity can hear him fussing with the lock, and when he manages to unlock it the door swings wide open as Oliver holds it. He’s smiling and Felicity’s heart leaps – he looks so happy and _good_ here. An overwhelming desire to hug him grabs a hold of her, but Felicity manages to restrain herself. Now’s not the time to freak him out.

“Felicity.”

He says it with such wonder, curiosity and something else that she can’t _think_. There are times when Felicity’s convinced Oliver says her name like it’s a sentence; as if there are too many words to accurately describe what he’s feeling, so he pours it all into saying her name with whatever emotions grab him.

She missed him. So much.

“Mind if I come in?”

“Depends. Do you plan on buying anything?”

Felicity’s suddenly reminded of their Sundays at Jitters, and she can’t stop herself from grinning like an idiot. “If it’s any good.”

Oliver laughs and it’s absolute heaven to her ears. “I guess you’ll see for yourself.”

Beckoning her to come inside, Felicity steps forward and enters the café, keenly aware of how close Oliver is. He shuts the door behind her and clasps his hands as she surveys the space. “Anything in particular you’d like?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she digests everything in. The café is stunning. It’s modern yet classic, with hints of green tastefully peeking out. There’s a corner dedicated to large, comfy sofas, the chairs and tables are sleek, and coupled with a brick wall Felicity has no doubt this will become the latest hipster spot in Star City. It’s clearly a labor of love and Felicity wants this to succeed as much as Oliver does. He deserves it.

“Oliver, this is amazing,” her voice laced with equal amounts of awe and excitement. She can’t wait to see what’s in store for him.

Turning around, she fondly looks at him but he’s bashfully staring at the ground. A small grin creeps up to her lips and Felicity says, “I’m really proud of you.”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thanks.”

The air is suddenly rife with tension and unspoken admissions, and Felicity finds herself awkwardly standing there. “Can I sit?”

Oliver nods and waves his hand around the café’s general direction. “Take your pick.”

Sitting down at the table nearest to her, Felicity takes off her coat and continues to admire the café. Her eyes touch upon the paintings and vintage posters on the walls – she spots a poster for _The Adventures of Robin Hood_ , and briefly wonders if Oliver put it up there on purpose, especially since it’s her go-to background movie to play during the weekends.

Maybe she shouldn’t read too much into things.

“You still didn’t tell me what you want.”

Snapping out of her daze, Felicity shrugs because she knows anything Oliver gives her will be delicious. “Surprise me.”

Nodding once more, Oliver smirks knowingly and heads to the kitchen, while Felicity tries to rehearse what she’ll say to him. Unfortunately the gorgeous location keeps distracting her.

She had expected the café to look and feel great, but she didn’t expect how amazing it turned out to be. It feels comfortable and familiar; all this place needs is a bed and Felicity could easily call it home. There’s a lingering smell of cookies and other food, and for a moment Felicity feels she could sleep here without another thought.

A couple of minutes later Oliver reemerges from the kitchen with two plates. As he gets closer, she grins at how serendipitous this is – of all the things Oliver chose to bring out, it’s a soufflé, and a chocolate one at that. He smiles at her and places the soufflés on the table, settling down next to her. Its aromatic smell makes her dizzy with exhilaration, and she sees that it’s been drizzled with chocolate on top of it.

“I feel like I’m on an episode of Top Chef.”

Oliver laughs tiredly and Felicity immediately feels guilty for coming so late. After all the craziness of today, she doesn’t doubt he’s exhausted and wants to sleep.

She’s tired, too. Tired from being sad, of wishing she could change the past, of her mistakes, and of being _scared_. Felicity tries so hard to be something else other than honest. She’ll run away as far as she can, push her feelings to the back of her mind believing they’ll only ruin her future, and in the end it leaves her broken.

Despite having a decadent soufflé in front of her, she doesn’t feel like eating it anymore as her thoughts continue to cloud her mind. But once she takes one savory bite, Felicity can’t help but moan as its flavors make her mouth dance in ecstasy. It’s soft, warm and gooey on the inside, and it’s quite possibly the best soufflé she’s ever tried.

“Do you like it?” Oliver grins, no doubt amused by her reaction.

“Are you kidding?” she says with a mouthful of food in her mouth. Swallowing, she immediately digs her spoon inside for another bite. “I could eat this for breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner.”

Smiling once more, Oliver stays silent as Felicity continues to eat. He doesn’t touch his own soufflé, and feeling a bit self-conscious, Felicity slows down and tries not to shove the entire thing in two seconds. It’s painfully quiet now, and in order to not embarrass herself she takes one more bite.

“I’m glad you came.” His confession startles Felicity – glancing up at him, she’s surprised to see how sincere he is. “I was . . . worried you wouldn’t.”

Crap – she feels bad for getting his hopes up and crushing it. But now that Oliver’s being honest, Felicity knows she can’t continue to skirt around the truth anymore. If he can open up to her then so can she. Still, it causes a rush of adrenaline and nervousness, and Felicity does her best not to freak herself – and Oliver – out.

“Yeah I . . . I – I didn’t have anywhere to go.” She spots Oliver’s eyebrows rise slightly, and for a moment she feels she’s about to get reprimanded by her mother.

“I wore PJs the whole day and stalked you on Twitter.” Realizing how horrible it sounds, Felicity tries to remedy her faux pas even though she knows it’s pointless. “I mean your Twitter mentions. Mentions on Twitter about you.”

 _Frack._ She really can’t go a minute without embarrassing herself, can she? Her skin burns in humiliation, and closing her eyes, Felicity collects herself before saying what she really meant. Oliver’s got a hint of a smile forming on his lips, and his reaction makes her marginally feel better.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity pushes the soufflé aside and puts her thoughts in order. “I’m sorry. I guess I . . . just didn’t want to show you how much I . . . “ _Missed you. So much._

It’s at the tip of her tongue, and _God,_ she wants to tell him how much she missed him. But it doesn’t feel like the right moment, and she swallows her confession away, unsure of when she’ll get the chance to say it. There are several other things she needs to tell him first.

Sensing her hesitation, Oliver purses his lips and slightly turns his chair towards Felicity. She can tell he’s trying to find the right words to say, and she patiently waits for him, just as he’s done a million other times. The silence doesn’t feel unbearable but there’s a layer of unsaid words begging to be let out.

“Felicity, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was back in Star City.”

As his jaw tenses he glances at the floor, and Felicity wants nothing more than to make him feel better. She doesn’t know why he feels the need to apologize for not contacting her, since they fought and she made sure he wasn’t allowed to be in her life anymore. Sometimes Felicity wonders what causes Oliver to shoulder everyone’s burden, because he does it often.

She shrugs. “It’s OK.”

Oliver’s not having it. Shaking his head, he shifts in his seat as he gathers his thoughts. “I just – I needed to figure myself out.”

“Oh.”

She wonders what it means – figuring yourself out. Perhaps it means moving to another environment and pushing yourself until you can’t, until you’re so exhausted from running that you finally have to stop. Or maybe it means going back home and finding ways to come to terms with your past, present, and future.

Felicity doesn’t know if she’s figured herself out yet. She’s still stubborn, is prone to hacking when she _knows_ she could go to jail for it, worries she’ll get abandoned by anyone and everyone at a moment’s notice, and can’t for the life of her want to workout. But she’s also figured out how to balance her work life, and how to stay calm in stressful situations. She knows her limits. She dresses better, she finds happiness in smaller things, and knows what it’s like to lose missed opportunities.

She’s lost, loved, and won. And that’s all part of figuring yourself out. Seeing Oliver take a chance and reevaluate who he is as a person encourages her to do the same. And maybe, just _maybe_ , they can work this out.

For the first time since she woke up this morning, Felicity finally takes a moment to soak this all in and let fate take its course. She’s just . . . happy she’s here, sitting next to Oliver for the first time in months. It feels like things are starting to happen the way they’re supposed to – naturally and without expectations.

Glancing up at Oliver, she gives a shy smile before looking down at the table and toying with the napkin. She doesn’t know what to say, but she figures she should start small.

“How did you leave Chicago by the way? You know, with Emerald and all . . .”

Clearly, Felicity needs a lesson on how to start a conversation without going straight to the heavy stuff, but she _is_ curious and wants to know.  

Oliver takes a deep breath and stares off as his eyes harden. “Let’s just say Isabel won’t be a madam for the foreseeable future.”

Well, that was unexpected. “You know you can’t _not_ finish the story,” she says with a laugh. “I’m dying to know the rest.”

He raises his eyebrows and fiddles with the spoon on his plate, his mouth pursing as he tries to find a way to tell Felicity the truth. She doesn’t know much about his time at Emerald – he would hardly talk about it unless there was something funny, and she finds herself wanting to know everything he kept hidden. Felicity wants him to know she’s there for him, and listening to every sordid detail is one place to start.

“I’m sure you remember me occasionally complaining about her. “ Felicity nods – there were only a handful of times Oliver slipped how it wasn’t so great to work at Emerald. “She wasn’t a good person. So I made sure she didn’t hurt anyone else.”

Felicity can only imagine what pushed Oliver to do something like that, but she trusts his judgment and knows if it weren’t Oliver, it would’ve been someone else who would send Isabel to jail.

“Good.”

Her steely response causes Oliver to look at her peculiarly, but as someone who’s seen the worst of humanity more times than she can count, Felicity’s glad Isabel won’t be able to prey on escorts anymore. They’re more alike than she realized.

Wanting to change the heavy subject, Felicity clears her throat and smiles awkwardly. “Anyway, how long have you been back?”

He seems thankful for the change of direction and quickly says, “Four months.”

A pang of disappointment hits her – he’s been here for this long and she didn’t know? In the back of her mind Felicity knows he didn’t contact her because he needed time for himself, but she wishes so much hadn’t passed.

“Oh. OK.”

Oliver notices the mood shift and explains, “I – I was going to . . . I got busy with opening this business and personal things.”

“Like I said, it’s fine.” She doesn’t want Oliver to feel bad when it’s not his fault to begin with. “It’s not like we were on speaking terms or anything.”

Giving her an odd look, he begins to rub his fingers and stares at the table. “Still.”

It annoys her Oliver feels it’s his fault for not contacting her – he shouldn’t blame himself for wanting some distance and taking time to focus on his wellbeing. Felicity’s tempted to press him, but things are a bit delicate right now and she wants things to go smoothly.

Clearing her throat once more, Felicity relaxes in her chair and looks around at the café, marveling once more at the décor. She feels the need to change the subject again and asks, “How did you manage to open a business in four months?”

He grins and stops rubbing his fingers. “It helps having friends in high places.”

Snorting, Felicity shakes her head but there’s a smile on her lips. “That doesn’t sound ominous whatsoever.”

A soft chuckle emanates from Oliver’s lips, and she’s suddenly reminded of how _beautiful_ it sounds. She’s missed his smiles, laughs, and his presence by her side.

“How do you like Palmer Tech?”

“It’s great.” Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she takes a deep breath and tries to find a way to tell Oliver how amazing it is. “I’m having fun, actually. We’re developing a spinal chip that’ll hopefully end any sort of paralysis, so . . . I’m doing big stuff.”

Cringing on the inside, she wonders how she managed to boil down her very important CTO role into “big stuff.” She might as well have finished the sentence with bigly and ended the night there.

“Wow, Felicity. That’s incredible.” Oliver’s eyes shine the same way they used to and for a moment she can’t _breathe_.

“Yeah, it is.”

Some days it doesn’t hit her she’s made it – she still thinks she’s back at MIT in her horrendous goth clothing, aching to make a difference in the world. There are days – months, even – when Felicity feels she hasn’t done her part yet. While she exceeds in one aspect of her life, she totally fails in the other. Yet through it all she’s _trying_ and it’s all she could ask for.

It’s why she’s here in the middle of Oliver’s café, hoping she can make her past a little more bearable and her future a little more exciting.

“Oliver, I really do need to apologize. For how I ended things.”

Her breath stutters in her chest and her throat dries up in nervousness and anticipation. She’s waited months to tell him what she really feels, and she wants nothing more than to have everything go smoothly.  

“You don’t.” Oliver looks a little scared, as if he doesn’t want to discuss how painful their breakup was.

“But I _want_ to.”

“Felicity –”

Shaking her head, Felicity brings up a hand to signal him to stop. This is her time to tell him how she feels. Instead of yelling at him and asking what his last name is, she has to say what was – _is_ – bothering her and how sorry she is.

Seemingly afraid of what she has to say, Oliver looks a little cautious but patiently waits.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity gathers her courage tries to stop her voice from wavering due to an overwhelming amount of emotions. She can feel her arms shaking from an overabundance of adrenaline, and curls her hands into small fists to control it. The moment she’s been waiting for is here – she can’t fuck this up.

“It – it really hurt me, when you lied. I thought we were _so_ close. You were the first person in . . . a long time I was this close to, and I thought I was wrong.”

The air is rife with tension, and she has to shrug off her jacket so she’s not sweating buckets from nervousness. Oliver’s carefully watching her, but she has to focus on her thoughts and take this one step at a time.  

“I know I wasn’t totally open with you. I – I thought as long as our . . . secrets weren’t brought up then there wasn’t a reason to mention it.”

Her heart loudly pounds deep beneath her chest to the point where it actually hurts her. Although Felicity told Oliver about her mother and growing up poor, she never told him about Cooper or her dad. Worse, she didn’t feel like they were in a stage to discuss their fears and insecurities, and Felicity chose not to take the first step in solidifying their friendship. She wonders what would’ve happened had she opened up to him first – she’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have gotten to this point.

“I just . . . I was OK with us not spilling our deepest secrets, as long as it didn’t impact us. But once yours _did_ impact us, and when I found out everything, I felt . . . betrayed.”

Briefly, Felicity glances up to look at Oliver and she’s not prepared to see his face completely devoid of emotion. It kind of scares her how distant he is, but Felicity soldiers on and hopes her apology doesn’t push Oliver further away.

“But I could only imagine how hard it was for you, you know? Leading a double life and all. And how you probably wanted to keep your secrets to yourself because it hurt to think about them.”

She knows exactly how he felt, since it still hurts to think about _her_ father and Cooper even after all these years. But unlike Oliver, Felicity managed to pull herself up and succeed despite everything, while he was literally and figuratively stuck being a prostitute. Their circumstances were different and she should’ve understood.

“I’m sorry for forcing it out of you. I’m sorry for leaving like I did.”

Black dots dance around her vision and Felicity suddenly remembers she needs to breathe – she immediately gulps as much air as she can, and tries to steady her racing heart. It feels like her chest might explode and her vision blurs from unshed tears. She’s equal parts relieved and anxious, and prays he doesn’t run for the nearest exit. But he hasn’t yet, and she thinks maybe he’s been waiting for a moment to tell her what he feels, too.

His mouth open and closes for several seconds until she can hear him take a deep breath. Shifting in his seat, Oliver leans forward and she’s hit with a whiff of his scent – a mix of cookies, chocolate, and something a bit woodsy. It’s uniquely _him_ and Felicity wants nothing more than to be in his arms.

“Felicity, I’m glad you forced it out of me.” Her eyes snap up to his, surprised by his confession. “I probably wouldn’t have said anything until you did. I took advantage of the situation.”

She appreciates his honesty, and gives him a small smile to let Oliver know she doesn’t begrudge him for it.

“Still. I left like a kid who didn’t have their way.”

He laughs at her word choice then gazes off into the distance, which causes the atmosphere to shift back into something a little more serious. Felicity’s not done apologizing, and she vows to say everything that’s been on her mind for months.

“I hurt you by not introducing you to my friends, to the other side of my life.”

Shame begins to coat her skin, lighting every inch of it on fire, reminding her what she did to keep Oliver away was so damn wrong. Putting Oliver in a tiny box labeled “Only For Felicity’s Consumption” did nothing but push him further away, and she hates how much it hurt him. He had every right to be introduced to her work and other personal life. Felicity separated their friendship from other aspects of her life, because she didn’t want people’s judgments to ruin things between them and her career. It wasn’t fair to him.

“I kept you away because I valued my career over our friendship. And I’m _really_ sorry.”

Tears prick her eyes and she rapidly blinks them away – she doesn’t want the waterworks to spill just yet when she’s not done with this conversation. Swallowing thickly, Felicity has to look away for a moment, because she doesn’t know if she can handle staring at Oliver right now. She wants nothing more than to be in his life, especially now when things are looking up for both of them, but _God,_ she hopes her confessions won’t push him too far away.

Suddenly, Oliver shifts and scoots his chair closer to Felicity – she thinks he’s about to take her hand in his, but nothing happens. Instead, he stares straight into her soul, his cerulean eyes quickly moving back in forth as they search for something. Felicity thinks he’s looking for acceptance and she wishes he didn’t feel the need to ask in the first place.

“ _I’m_ sorry I hurt you, Felicity.” His voice wavers and Felicity wonders whether this has been as hard for him as it’s been for her, too.

“I should’ve told you . . . why Ray was bothering me.”

For a brief moment, Oliver’s eyes harden and she suspects it’s due to mentioning Ray. His reaction would’ve annoyed her before, but now that she knows the truth she understands why he has ill feelings toward him. At least Oliver’s come to learn how to separate his personal feelings from Felicity’s professional life, and for that she’s forever grateful.

“I shouldn’t have let my – my _issues_ ruin an awesome opportunity for you. I attacked you when instead I should’ve been honest about why I was acting out.”

She can tell how sincere he is from the way his shoulders have dropped and how he never stops looking at her – even his fingers aren’t rubbing together, a nervous tick she’s seen time and time again. Seeing how different Oliver is now astounds her, and his journey to this point only encourages Felicity to make changes in her life as well.

“And I’m sorry for not telling you how I felt . . .” He hesitates then adds, “About all that. I really am.”

For months Felicity’s been aching to hear Oliver’s apology. She’s imagined a million different scenarios, all of them abruptly ending because she couldn’t ever dream of this moment happening. But instead of feeling a weight get lifted off her shoulders, she simply digests Oliver’s words without another thought. It’ll probably hit her when she’s back in her bed, going over this conversation on repeat, but for now Felicity’s satisfied they’re in a place to be this honest with one another.

It’s all she could ever ask for.

“I should’ve been honest about how you were hurting me, instead of letting my anger . . . boil over.”

“And I should’ve told you the truth.”

They smile shyly at one another, and in that moment Felicity just _knows_ they’ve moved on. Whatever was bothering before will no longer have to power to control them, because the desire to be in each other’s lives is more important than focusing on the past.  

“Now you can. If you want.”

_I want to be there for you._

There’s a pregnant pause and Felicity’s afraid she may have pushed it too far. Oliver leans back against the chair and his eyes darken – whether it’s from sadness or anger, she doesn’t know. But Felicity wants him to know he can be honest with her and not worry about judgments, and most of all, not feel like he has to hide things from her.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, like he’s trying to rid his head of certain memories. Looking off into the distance, Oliver starts to rub his fingers and Felicity knows things are going to get serious.

“The night before our movie hangout, I was called to join a house orgy.”

She sees Oliver swallow thickly and she can imagine how difficult this may be for him. Felicity almost wants to take back her offer, but they’re already being so open with each other – it would be a shame to revert back to who they were a mere ten minutes ago.  

“And instead I saw . . . a young escort getting assaulted. She was _barely_ eighteen, Felicity.”

Shaking his head once more, Oliver lets out a breath and looks down at the floor. His shoulders sag and in this moment he looks so _defeated._ She wants to tell him to stop or even hug him, because this is obviously hurting him. But suddenly, he sits right back up and looks at Felicity, his face betraying no hint of emotion. She doesn’t know what to think of this mood change, but chooses to wait and see what happens.

“When I went to Isabel, she . . . You have to understand, the girl was going to be indebted to Isabel forever. She would’ve _never_ been able to get out from Isabel’s grasp.”

Felicity quickly digests the information in, and she’s hit with such sadness and pity she doesn’t know what to think. It appears Emerald was a mafia, with Isabel in charge of destroying people’s lives and stuffing her bank account. For Isabel to use young girls and keep them as modern day slaves is nothing short of disgusting. _Now_ Felicity understands why Isabel’s in jail.

“So I had to do something to keep her safe.”

He’s seen so much – from having his money, parents and house snatched away from him to becoming an illegal escort under a literal mob boss. After all these months, Felicity understands why Oliver wouldn’t speak about his time at Emerald: it was too painful. And she feels so fucking _guilty_ for asking him to open the can of worms. She should’ve known what his silence meant, why he only shared funny escort stories, why he did whatever he could to get Felicity talking so he could focus on something other than his horrid job.

“I’m sorry that happened to the escort . . . and to you.”

Oliver probably doesn’t want Felicity’s pity but she can’t help feeling that way. She wishes he didn’t have to go through all of it, yet she’s glad he had the courage to take down Isabel in a way he saw fit.

Unaware of Felicity’s inner turmoil he simply shrugs. “And another escort I was mentoring overdosed the following night,” his voice grave as he recounts the incident.

 _Holy shit._ No wonder he looked so haunted on their last movie night, and worse for wear the following Saturday, on the day of their fateful fight. She remembers how off he seemed. She took his sullen silences as him being jealous of her, Ray and a million other stupid things, but he was quietly suffering the whole time. And she freaking spent that time fighting with him.

God, how bitchy could Felicity be? She made it all about her when it was anything but that. Granted, Oliver not telling her the truth made things a bit more complicated – it certainly would’ve stopped Felicity from accusing him of numerous things – but she just wishes she knew before blowing up on him.  

She’s feeling nothing short of guilty. This whole debacle could’ve been avoided had they been honest with each other, but everything seems preventable in hindsight. Maybe Felicity had to lose Oliver in order to really appreciate him.

“I could’ve . . . You know I’m there for you, right?”

Her voice drops an octave and she finds herself whispering – there’s a part of her wanting him to know how serious she is, but most of all, this promise is only meant for him. There’s no one else she’s willing to stand through thick and thin for. Oliver _has_ to know this.  

Oliver’s mouth twitches as he leans forward, clasping his hands in his lap and watching her intently. The way Oliver’s looking at her reminds her of their Sundays at Jitters and Wednesdays curled up in each other’s couches, and it’s so familiar that Felicity almost cries at the thought of it. Her heart stops and restarts, her stomach doing flip-flops without her permission and she feels complete.

“Yeah.”

They fall into an easy silence, and Felicity doesn’t know how long they simply stare at one another. It should make her feel awkward but it doesn’t – it’s like coming home. She can feel her cheeks heating up, though she doesn’t know why, and immediately looks away to cover it up.

The spell now broken, Oliver ostentatiously clears his throat before saying, “I – you were right, about me wanting to keep our friendship a fantasy.”

Of all the things Oliver could’ve said, this was a bit unexpected. She doesn’t know how to respond to it, and firmly keeps her mouth shut before she embarrasses herself.

Oliver glances down at his hands and shakes his head as he does so. “I didn’t want to tell you about work because work didn’t exist between us.”

He struggles for a moment – his brows furrow and Felicity suddenly has an itch to smooth it over and take his worries away from him.

“I wasn’t happy at Emerald . . . I wasn’t happy in general.” Shrugging, Oliver smiles sadly and continues, “And I didn’t want my job being the topic of our discussions whenever we were together.”

Her chest pinches painfully and it takes every bit of strength not to launch at him. There’s a chance Oliver was severely depressed back in Chicago and she only made things worse for him by pushing him to open up. Yet, hearing how their friendship made him happier warms her body and soul, and she just _knows_ they’re meant to be in each other’s lives.

“Sometimes I wondered why you hung out with me, you know? I was a nobody.” Felicity snorts but when Oliver’s silent she realizes how much it hurt him to be a prostitute. Naturally, his profession forced him to be isolated and prevented him from having a well-rounded social life, but despite all of it, he was – _is_ – somebody to her.

“I was an uneducated former playboy turned escort.” Blowing a breath, Oliver briefly begins to rub his fingers, and Felicity can only imagine what’s going on in his head.

“I – I felt abandoned when I heard you were hanging out with Ray, or with your other friends.” Scoffing, he inhales deeply and rubs the back of his neck. “Which is . . . stupid, since you’re allowed to have a life.”

Combined with refusing to introduce Oliver to her friends and keeping their friendship in a small bubble, Felicity hadn’t realized how her social life clashed with Oliver’s nonexistent one. From what she can gather he spent most of his time with her, so it’s understandable why Oliver would feel that way. In an ironic twist, it’s _Oliver_ who felt abandoned even though Felicity constantly worried it might happen to her.

“If it makes you feel better, I only met Ray twice after I saw him at the gala.”

Oliver blinks rapidly. “Oh.”

She feels the need to tell him she enjoyed hanging out with him, and that whenever she spent time with her friends they didn’t hold a candle to spending time with Oliver. “I never meant to blow you off when I hung out with my friends.”

“I know that now.” He nods solemnly and his eyebrows furrow once more in contemplation.

Hearing how Oliver felt about Felicity’s social life reminds her of last Saturday, when she saw Oliver for the first time in months. Seeing him blissfully painting away and starting a business without her knowledge made her jealous. She wanted – wants – to be a part of his life, and now she knows why Oliver felt abandoned in Chicago.

“You know, when we ran into each other last week, I saw how happy you were without me, and I guess I . . . finally realized you didn’t need me. I got . . .” Toying with the hem of her shirt, Felicity searches for another word besides jealous except she can’t. She doesn’t want to say the word in fear of making things awkward.

Oliver _Hmms_ and when she looks up at him he’s staring thoughtfully out into the distance. It used to bother her so much when he would look away, because it usually signaled the end of a conversation. But times are different now, and she can’t be more proud of them for being able to open up like this.

“It’s funny – I thought the same thing back in Chicago,” he casually admits. This night has been filled with confessions and apologies, but Felicity’s glad they’re at a point where they can hash things out as adults.

“It made me – what’s the word – not sad, but frustrated to see you having a life.” Felicity quizzically looks at him, but he only grins lopsided at her, her heart skipping a beat as he does so.

“I wasn’t jealous, but I knew you went to work, had fun and were excited about it. Me?” Oliver shrugs and if Felicity paid closer attention she could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “I could barely keep my head straight. I wanted what you had – stability and a . . . _passion_.”

She almost tells him she was never really passionate about being a consultant, but another second passes and she finally understands what he’s trying to say: she cared about the work she did and he . . . didn’t. And although Oliver probably cared about his clients, he went home everyday wishing for something more fulfilling.

“A reason to live.”

Felicity’s sad Oliver didn’t feel like there was a reason to live in Chicago, but seeing him here, alive and _happy_ makes her slightly glad they fought. If they hadn’t, then Felicity doesn’t doubt she wouldn’t have come here, and Oliver would’ve been under Isabel’s firm grasp, working at a job he didn’t love.

“Well, you’re free now.”

He smiles contentedly. “Yeah, I am.”

They fall into another silence but a hint of panic hits her. She feels like the conversation is winding down but she still hasn’t told him everything. She hasn’t told him she loves him. That she’s _in_ love with him. That without him in her life, she’s barely floating by and can’t function.

Her mouth pools with saliva and she can’t bring herself to look at him. This moment is too important to screw up, but she’s never been in this situation before. She’s never felt so uninhibited that it causes her to throw caution in the wind. She feels so out of control she’ll do whatever it takes to grab a hold of it.

Gathering any bit of courage she has, Felicity breathes in deeply and finally looks up at Oliver, albeit shyly and without any bit of finesse. “Oliver, I missed you.”

For a moment nothing exists between them – time has been erased, their past is forgotten history, and the gods from above collectively hold their breath. Felicity’s vision blurs from fear of rejection, but the possibility this might turn into something _good_ stops her from running out the door. She has to know what _this_ is between them, otherwise it’ll kill her.

Something changes in Oliver – his shoulders drop, his head tilts to the side, and he’s staring right at her like she’s the only person in the entire world. It’s as if he’s allowing himself to see her for the first time, not as a friend but as someone more. Someone who can make him happy, someone to encourage him to live another day.

“Me too, Felicity.”

Relief washes over her, coating her skin with tenderness and chills. After finding out Oliver was back at Star City, Felicity felt she was not longer in a position to _be_ missed, because he clearly didn’t need her anymore. Yet hearing him admit to missing her causes her to feel more loved than she has in her entire life, and she wants nothing more than to wake up to the feeling every day.

Oliver suddenly scoots forward, and for a second Felicity thinks he’s going to grab her hand, but he doesn’t. He continues to look straight at her, as if he wants her to know how important his next words are.

She takes this opportunity to really look at him – his hair has gotten a tad longer, the wrinkles on the corners of have gotten deeper and his lips, which were always in a tight, pursed lines have loosened up. He’s always been handsome, but in this moment he’s nothing short of beautiful, especially in the dim café lighting.

God, Felicity wants him so bad, and the ache in her chest intensifies as each second passes.

“Those seven months we spent together were the first glimmer of light in a long time, Felicity.” She hadn’t realized he began speaking, and she has to lean forward to hear him talk.

He’s entirely focused on her but he seems a tiny bit distant, yet it does nothing to dissuade her from losing herself in him. He’s gotten her wrapped around his finger, and the thought of it doesn’t shame her – it makes her giddy with anticipation.

“And I want to say thank you for making me . . . happy.”

 _Oh no._ Not _this_ – anything but this. She came here tonight for the sole reason of apologizing and telling him how she feels, not have Oliver give up on any romantic – or platonic – possibility of getting together.

But something stirs in Felicity: _hope._ It gets her heart racing and her palms sweaty – she doesn’t doubt that Oliver can hear her heartbeat as it covers the air with it’s fast and thrumming pace. She entertains the idea maybe, just _maybe,_ she’s not alone in her feelings. If he’s willing to write off a potential relationship, it means he was at least thinking about it before, and it’s all the evidence she needs.

And for the first time since Felicity’s met Oliver, she fucking _fights_ to keep them together. To have them as a single unit, bound by admiration and love. Felicity’s not going to go home and tuck her tail between her legs – she’s already done that. No, this time Felicity’s going to make sure they’re in a place where there’s nowhere to run except into each other’s arms.

“Oliver, I –”

It happens without her own accord, but before she knows it she reaches over to grab his hand. Her fingers curl around his calloused palm, igniting a path of electricity she didn’t know was possible and gasping at the sensation. Oliver flinches from the contact, and Felicity would like to imagine Oliver felt the same spark of electricity as she did. But without a moment’s hesitation, he wraps his hands around hers, holding it tight and doing everything in his power to not let go. And it fills her up with such warmth she wants to cry, because there has never been a moment in her life where she’s felt this way.

He’s taught her what it means to love, to laugh, lose and gain it all back. Oliver’s everything to her.

“I want . . . the next day, month, and year to be happy.” Her voice wavers and her vision blurs for the umpteenth time, but she soldiers on. This is it.

“And I want you to be a part of it. With you.”

She shakily lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and she’s hyper aware of everything around her – Oliver’s fingers tightening it’s hold around hers, his scent, the long forgotten soufflé, and the fact all time has seized to exist. What Felicity feels is so _powerful_ that it threatens to unbalance her, but she welcomes it with open arms.

“I love you, Oliver.”

She can feel the exact moment her soul leaves her body, anxiously waiting above her to merge with Oliver’s. All this time she’s been missing a piece, and it’s Oliver who’s been able to patch her up in ways she didn’t think were possible. He’s made her feel things she never thought she could, and no matter what happens Felicity will never regret hiring him more than a year ago. He’s meant to be in her life in its weird and awkward glory.

Oliver inhales sharply but his body doesn’t move an inch. His eyes rapidly move back and forth, searching and searching, until he’s found the answer he’s been waiting for.

“I love you, too. _God,_ I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

Letting out a relieved sob, Felicity clamps a hand over her mouth as she tries to suppress her emotions from tumbling forward. But she can’t help it – she’s been waiting for this moment for so long, and for it to actually happen . . . she can’t believe it.

And neither can Oliver – he laughs, the kind filled with delirium and happiness, the kind that shows up in true, honest moments. The sound is so beautiful and her laugh mingles with his, creating a symphony of love unknown to mankind.

She doesn’t how moves first, but their hands leave each other’s and Oliver immediately cups her face with both of his hands. He’s so close – she can see every single eyelash, pore, and truth hidden beneath his skin.

Placing her own hand on top of his and the other curling over his thigh, Felicity leans forward the same moment Oliver does, her eyes closing in contentment. Their lips touch like two missing pieces of a puzzle, and the sheer intensity of the kiss causes her to gasp – her womb tightens, her toes curl, and her skin erupts in chills as the sensation overtakes her. It’s the single most amazing kiss she’s ever experienced, and she’s already imagining what it’ll taste like years into the future.

Love does a number of things to you – it makes you irrational, angry and jealous, but there’s that other part, the part which makes you complete. The part that feels like coming home, the part that hurts so much you can’t bear to be without it.

And Felicity knows, without a doubt, all the hardships she and Oliver have gone through were meant to lead them to this point. There’s no other explanation for it – if it weren’t for Oliver working as an escort, Felicity would’ve never met him, would’ve never felt such intense pleasure, sadness and happiness.

She never would’ve known what being in love means, but she does now. As their foreheads touch one another’s, their souls mingling for the first time, Felicity has a feeling things are only going to get better. And she’ll do whatever it takes to hold onto it.


	9. Epilogue

_Two years later_

A breathy moan escapes her lips, and grinning at the sound of it, he goes back to the same spot on her neck to hear it once more. It never really occurred to him how well he knows her body, but he’s conquered every inch with no mercy, his hard earned knowledge his best and only weapon to use against – or perhaps _for_ – her.

There’s only so much time before they have to go back, but everyone else can wait. After all, it’s his business and second café opening, and he gets to control when he can work . . . and when he and Felicity can spend hours holed up in his office, doing every sinful position they can think of.

He loves seeing her life this: out of control, uninhibited and he knows if someone were to walk in she wouldn’t even notice. Felicity’s always been responsive; it's one of the first things he noticed about her during their fateful appointment. Having sex with her is life coming home – he knows which road to take, which shortcuts to use that’ll cause her to moan wantonly, and which hills makes her ticklish.

Oliver’s fingers are inching up on her thigh, and he swears he can feel the heat coming out of her – that’s how strong it is. He’s planning out how he’s going to devour Felicity when she suddenly pulls away and pushes his hand to the side. “We have to go back and help everyone.”

Her voice is husky, her pupils are dilated, and Oliver’s cock twitches at the thought of making her so desperate right here, right now. Glancing up at her half-hooded eyes, he grins but pleads, “Come on, they can handle it. We’ll only be gone for a few minutes, maybe an hour.”

Felicity laughs and a gust of cold air hits him as she gently pushes him away. Straightening her clothes out and putting her glasses back on, Felicity smiles wickedly at him. “You can make it up to me tonight.”

She knew _exactly_ what this would do to him, because Oliver immediately groans at the thought of making her weak and thrashing beneath him. “Fuck, Felicity. You shouldn’t have worn that skirt if you want me to wait till tonight.

It’s a billowy orange skirt with white flowers on it. The color and shape compliments her, but it’s short enough to leave little to the imagination. She’s worn it before but only for a few minutes until Oliver had her pressed against the kitchen counter, his fingers making her go wild as her hands gripped his shoulders so tight they left bruises.

The memory assaults his mind and he has to restrain himself from groaning aloud once more. “You need to behave,” Felicity admonishes. “The press are coming – you need to be at the counter to help.”

Letting out a breath, Oliver sighs and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me wait for hours until I get to touch you . . .”

His rake over her body, making sure to touch upon every glorious inch of her. Her legs have gotten tanner since the summer started, and he can’t wait to have them wrapped around his legs, preferably in Felicity’s vacation home in the Hamptons where he can have her outside and feel the sun beat down his back.

Oliver doesn’t miss how Felicity’s begun to squirm under his gaze and he can’t help but smirk. “Jesus Oliver, you’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Can’t help it – you make me that way.”

Laughing once more, Felicity smiles brightly before heading towards the door. Turning around, she points a finger at him and says, “Don’t blame me for your crazy sex drive, you nymphomaniac.”

Shaking his head, he winks at her and watches Felicity leave the office. Smiling to himself, Oliver gathers the apron he dropped to the side and ties it around his waist, readying himself for the massive crowd on this fine Saturday morning.

There are some days, like today, when Oliver can’t believe his luck. Just over two years ago he was working as Emerald’s premiere escort, doing a job he didn’t love, and working under a madam who cared more about her profits than the welfare of her employees. Days would blur into months and Oliver aimlessly wandered about, unsure of his future and unwilling to do something about it. He and Felicity met on their fated appointment, became friends, broke up and now they’re, well, together as a couple.

Life couldn’t get better than it is now. His café – Nocking Point – had above average profits in the first year, and Oliver didn’t need to be told twice to open another location. The café has also worked to hire the less advantaged, many young high school dropouts and anyone else who needs an extra hand. Oliver knows firsthand what it’s like to be desperate, and he doesn’t want that situation for anyone else.

Of course, it makes his life all the sweeter by having Felicity proudly standing next to him. Oliver's so lucky to have Felicity – she’s encouraged and pushed him to be the man he can be, and for that he’s forever grateful. Oliver’s always wondered what it felt like to be truly in love, to worship someone that it aches to not be near them. Felicity’s taught him so much about love and being in a partnership, and he swallows it all up, keen on becoming the man Felicity deserves.

The first few months of their relationship was uncharted territory for the both of them. Oliver insisted on doing things the right way – going on dates, keeping his pants zipped, and showering Felicity with all the love he could muster. Felicity, on the other hand, had a few _other_ ways to start their relationship, and naturally Oliver was powerless to stop her.

Regardless, they’ve managed to work past their insecurities and fears of abandonment through countless of hours tucked away on Felicity’s couch, whispering their confessions late into the night. He’s learned to communicate when things are bothering him, as opposed to shoving them away and waiting to explode at the wrong time. They’re honest with each other and after all the hard work they’ve put into their relationship, Oliver just _knows_ there’s nothing which can tear them apart.

Even though Felicity’s begun to travel a lot for her work – being CTO is tough business – and Oliver’s become more focused on his growing business, they find ways to spend as much as they can. He supports Felicity in the same way she supports him, and he wants nothing more than for Felicity to succeed and be happy. It definitely helps living with Felicity in her gigantic house, and every night Oliver genuinely enjoys coming back to _their_ home, curling up to her in front of the fireplace.

He’s worked hard to get to this point, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s learned what it’s like to lose everything – his parents, his money, fame, and sense of worth – only to gain it all back in different, better ways. He’s learned to appreciate everyone in his life, and to take any opportunity to grow from his experiences.

Oliver has everything he ever dreamed of and there’s no way in hell he’s letting this go.

Taking one last glance at his office, Oliver grins and steps out into the café, eager to see what the world has in store for him. And with Felicity by his side, he’s ready to take it on headfirst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this is a long time coming! This is the first multi-chapter fic I've finished since 2010, which is so crazy because that's just unacceptable lol. I know it's taken awhile (OK, a long time) to finish, but I can't thank you all enough for sticking with this story. This story's been through the ringer, so I'm absolutely floored you guys have enjoyed it as much as you have. I know this story isn't as Olicity as a lot of people expected, and there was a lot more angst involved, but I promised you it would all work out. ;D Regardless, it's been a pleasure to write for you all and I hope you stick around for my other stories. 
> 
> I can't finish this note without thanking the amazing [Tammy](http://curvy-tam.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this story. She's fixed all my annoying little mistakes, and has provided much needed support when I've been hella stuck. And the wonderful [Mimi](http://the-mimi-hiddleston.tumblr.com/) is definitely the BEST cheerleader out there, because she's always there when I need to throw out ideas, and her enthusiasm is unmatched. I'm so glad I got paired up with you two! And thank you for everything!
> 
> And last but not least, many thanks to the amazing [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller) for being my second pair of eyes and ears. She's been nothing short of amazing, and I've come to rely on her opinions so much that I can't imagine NOT asking her. She's helped me out even though she's extremely busy, so thank you for taking the time to help poor old me. You're the best <3 Please take a moment to read and review her stories, I promise you'll love them! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all once again and I hope to see you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if the Russian is 100% wrong since I relied on Google for it. And if you have the time please check out my other WIP, "This is the Way You'll Remember Me." It's a Pride and Prejudice Olicity AU if that's what you're interested in. I'll definitely be focusing on it a lot more now that my schedule has significantly cleared up. :) Thank you for reading!


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